The Dragonborn and the Sneak
by Sephraem
Summary: Or The Author Believes Delvin Deserves So Much Better Than Vex. The Guild Master is sick and tired of sacrificing so much for her family and getting little to nothing in return, and also her Second is not doing his job. The Sneak Trainer doesn't want to have a broken family again. And it seems Ulfric's having problems with the Thalmor again. Just another day in Skyrim, ya?
1. Chapter 1

It was an oddly quiet night in the Flagon, not that Delvin Mallory minded. Ever since the guild was blessed with their new Guild Master, things for the thieves had changed- their luck was better than ever, jobs kept flowing in, the merchants were back in the Flagon, and the new recruits not only stayed with the guild, they were also _competent_. This meant more money coming in, which meant members weren't just sitting around doing nothing all day long.

The Breton leaned back in the chair he was relaxing in, dropping his booted feet on the edge of the table. Opening the bottle of mead he held in his hands, the master thief goes to drink except his gaze gets dragged to the side by the opening and shutting of the door that leads into the cistern. Not five minutes later comes the black leather clad form of his Guild Master, a rather frustrated look on her face.

"You're up late Boss," he says to the Nord woman, an eyebrow arching as it asks the unasked question.

"I'm up late every night." A soft huff is heard over the crackling of lit candles and the flowing waters of the sewers as an auburn head turns to look at him. "The amount of work that has to be finished won't get done on its own, Mallory. That's something the Second seems to forget...or chooses to ignore, not quite sure. I sometimes wonder if Mercer was able to get away with what he was doing for so long because of Bryn's lack of taking on responsibility unless the situation calls for it."

A bare hand gestures to the seat next to him, offering her the chance to sit. As the woman walks over, stopping only to grab a bottle of mead from behind the bar, the Master Thief asks "And what did our wayward brother do now, Aisling?"

"You mean what _hasn't_ he done?" a tired voice goes as she collapses in the seat. "Things I had asked him to get done weeks ago are still sitting there, and still, any time I try to get him to stay in one place long enough to talk with him about things I get the," here, the Guild Master coughs and mimics the ginger male's voice " 'Sorry Lass, I've got important things to do. We'll speak another time.' line. I am only one person, Del, Dragonborn though I may be. I can't do it all on my own."

"And do you have an idea of what he's doing when he's claiming these important things needing to be doing?" Golden orbs pass over her form, taking note of the dark circles under dull cobalt, the sunken cheeks, the way her armor didn't seem to fit as it used to. _How didn't any of us notice this?_

Lithe fingers remove the cork from the mead bottle then tosses it on the table in disgust. "Not for all of them, but currently he's getting rather comfortable with our resident Dunmer down the hall, if you catch my drift,"she growls out before taking a long pull from the bottle. "And before you ask, no I am _not_ jealous of the attentions Brynjolf is giving to Karliah- maybe at another time I would have been, but I'm not keen on becoming just yet _another_ notch in his bedpost. What I _am_ jealous of is that he doesn't have time to deal with me, but he'll make all the time in Oblivion for her or whoever else is willing to spread their legs for him! Damn it to the Evergloam, Delvin. I'm sacrificing everything for this family including my right to have a life and no one seems to appreciate me or what I do!"

"I care."

"Don't make me laugh Mallory. You are so wrapped up in trying to convince Vex to have a go with you that you do not always see what else is going on around you. I don't know who is worse, you focusing on the unobtainable or him for wanting to obtain it all- guess that's why you're thieves." Reaching into a pocket, she pulls out a handful of septims, then drops them on the wood table in a haphazard pile next to the half finished bottle. "Make sure Vekel gets these in the morning," Aisling orders the Breton across from her as she stands from the dark wood chair.

Grayish brown eyebrows furrow in concern as he reaches out, grabbing lightly at her wrist. "Where are you going, Boss?"

"Home to try and actually get a decent sleep, I think I deserve at least that much." She softly blows some air upwards, trying to get some rogue strands of hair out of her line of sight, "And come morning, I hope to head to Windhelm and then maybe find answers to my questions... or at least receive some guidance."

"Are you leaving us?"

"Would it honestly make a difference?" Her head shakes in the negative. "The Guild is my family, even if the bloody fuckin' lot of you take advantage of me. No, I will be coming back, just a matter of when." Aisling gently takes a hold of his hand and pries it loose from her person, but doesn't release her grip on it just yet. "Gods and Daedra willing, of course," she mumbles half to herself, lifeless eyes going distant for a second. Shaking her head, the Guild Master absently runs a thumb over Delvin's palm, then releases his hand, turns and moves towards the exit.

A strange look crosses the man's face as he watches the woman who saved their livelihood just walk out of the Flagon without another word. _Bryn and Karliah? They wouldn't have...unless…_ Delvin was torn between going after Aisling and finding out exactly what she either saw or heard, and the need to keep the Guild Master close to home won out. He knew that if she left without word, she had enough hiding places across the province and Solstheim to disappear until she deemed herself ready to return...if she chose to return.

The only sound heard in the nearly empty room was the sound of a wooden chair being pushed back along the floor, followed by the soft echos of booted feet on stone as the lone occupant slowly makes his way through the Flagon towards the Ratways, and eventually out into the cool Riften night.


	2. Chapter 2

Aisling sat on a chair in front of the crackling hearth of Honeyside, clad only in a pair of black linen pants and a matching color breast band. She knew that she should be sleeping if she planned on heading up to Windhelm for her trip to Solstheim, but her mind was refusing to quiet down. If it ended up being a restless night, well, it wouldn't be the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Lifeless sapphires glance at the pile of armor in the corner by the door and the Nord couldn't help but wonder if this… this dealing with stupidity day in and day out, in tandem with the greed, made Mercer do what he did. Not that she blamed him, in hindsight- in the end, all a thief could count on was their skill and their luck, no one and nothing else. A slight smirk graces her face as the thought that the Breton was laughing at her from wherever traitors go when they die crosses her mind. Betrayer though the former Guild Master might have been, Aisling would not deny that the bastard was a brilliant asshole.

A soft knock on the front door breaks the redhead out of her reverie, her eyes moving back to stare into the flames. The woman's pale head tilts slightly, trying to hear outside- her internal clock from the time spent in the Ratways was telling the thief that it was just past one in the morning, so who would be calling on her this late at night? Then again, she was an agent of Nocturnal- the night was her time. _Perhaps if I ignore it, they'll go away..._ She hears a second, then a third rap on the wood, followed by a muffled swear.

There's a few moments of silence, followed by the very familiar sound of a pick being slipped into the lock. As much as the Guild Master for the thieves should be insulted that someone dared break into her own home, at this point in time, she was too damned tired to care. The door opens, two soft steps signal someone entering, then the portal quietly shuts, the lock being put back in place. More steps, the placing of a sack on her table- still no words to distinguish who was paying a late night visit.

Finally, after what seemed to be a lifetime, a black garbed figure kneels in Aisling's line of vision. Rough fingers lightly take a hold of her chin and press upwards, forcing the Guild Master's face and therefore her eyes to look forward. Who the woman saw caused her eyebrow just to rise slightly in question.

"Delvin. Is there a reason you're breaking into my house at this hour of the night? Did something happen already for you to have to not only darken my doorstep but disturb my reprieve from bullshit?" The ginger leans backwards in her chair, the movement releasing her jaw from his hold. A sigh escapes her when, instead of getting a timely response to her question, she sees dark eyes staring just below her neck at the obvious lack of tunic covering her torso. Out of habit, long fingers move and flick the intruding thief in the middle of his forehead. "Eyes front, idiot, lest I start calling you Brynjolf's long lost brother with the way you were starin'."

The Breton, unlike the male Nord he was being compared to, at least had the decency to look somewhat sheepish as he rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry Boss. Just... it's rare to see you outside your armor, that's all."

"I don't live in my leathers, Mallory. They're not always...enough...for some things I need to do. Even then, the more durable armors have proven unable to protect from everything."

"Nothing ever does," her unexpected visitor agrees quietly, then meets her gaze. "In answer to your question, I...was worried."

A soft snort of disbelief is barely heard over the the combined sounds of the fire and the waters of Lake Honrich. "I don't need nor _want_ anyone's concern. I'm fine."

"Your mouth says one thing, your body screams something else Aisling." A calloused thumb brushes lightly under her left eye and down her jawline. "You're running yourself ragged, not taking a moment to rest." His other hand lightly takes a hold of her side, feeling the bones press into his palm. "You're not eating."

"I eat." _Lie_ , her conscience tells her, and she inwardly winces. It was true- Aisling tended to focus more on trying to get work done that the concept of eating was shoved to the back of her mind. In fact, it was forgotten more often than not unless someone shoved a dish in her hands and watched her eat what was on it.

"Obviously not enough," the trainer retorts, his mouth setting into a firm line. "Why are you pushing yourself so hard?"

"Why? Do you need a reminder of what the Guild was like when I first stepped foot into the Flagon? If I slow down, we'll go back to that," his leader snarks back, then continues. "We can't afford to get complacent just because Nocturnal's put favorable luck back in our laps. She can give, but she can also take it away just as fast."

"I'm not saying become complacent, and you know it." His larger hands move up to cup her face once more, causing cool blue orbs to focus back on warm browns. "Slow down. Remember to breathe. Remember to _live._ "

Aisling blinks slowly, the touch removing her ability to speak. Finally she gets her brain and vocal chords on the same page and whispers "I don't... know how, I suppose. I've always been asked to sacrifice for the many that it has become second nature."

"We'll just have to fix that, won't we?" Before the woman could respond, a leather covered arm snakes around her neck, the second under her legs and Delvin picks her up from the seat. "The first lesson is to reintroduce you to this lovely little thing called... _a bed._ Don't try to convince me you use one- I know you tend to sleep in your chair in the Guild more often than not."

"Ack! Mallory! Put me down!" Her protest falls on deaf ears and the woman huffs petulantly, like a child who's favorite toy was taken from them. "I am capable of walking, you know."

"Second lesson- let others take care of you once in awhile. There's no crime in relying on people when you need it. But," the Breton goes, cutting her off, "you also need to actually _open_ your mouth and say something. We're not mind readers, Boss..."

A soft yawn bounces off the walls of the living area as he gently lays her down on top of the mattress. "Not sure why it matters. As soon as I'm back on my feet, it's going to go back to the way it was. But, I suppose I can humor you, just for tonight." The redhead yawns again, curling up on her side. "Del?"

"Yeah?" he responds, pulling a chair over and sitting down.

"Stay?"

The dimness of the room hides the soft smile on the man's face. "Sleep Aisling, I'll be here when you wake up."

"Mmkay..." she mumbles, the last thing her fading awareness registers was the feeling of fingers running through her hair and utter contentment...


	3. Chapter 3

_Comfortable._

 _Warm._

 _Safe._

As consciousness returns to the Nord female, those were the feelings her body first registered. Then, on the next inhale, the smell of cinnamon drifts up her nose. A soft moan escapes her throat as she buries her head into where the scent was coming from, just wanting to drown in it.

Unfortunately for her, the rest of her nerve endings decides to catch up and ruin everything. First Aisling felt the slight pressure of a hand on her bare back, then her right leg was wrapped around something, followed by her hands gripping onto linen, and lastly strands of her hair being moved by slow exhales that were not her own.

 _Do I even want to open my eyes and see what I've gotten myself into?_ Of course she did, that was a stupid question.

A solitary blue orb flickers open, adapting easily to the late afternoon sunlight floating through the almost closed curtains on the windows. Her partial gaze slowly moves upward, landing on the familiar jawline of the Guild's sneak trainer. _That's... something. I know he was in a chair when I passed out. Better not ask about it. Truthfully, I thought he would have been long gone by now. Why didn't he leave?_

"You're thinking too hard."

Her ears twitch at the gravelly voice and Aisling moves slightly to see barely open mahogany eyes peering down at her. "I'm always thinking."

"There's times when you do it when the act's not necessary," Delvin murmurs as he brushes some rogue auburn hair from her line of sight. "But, I'll take the bait. What were you thinking about?"

"I was wondering why you were still here? You were in no obligation to stay."

"You asked me to stay, and I told you I would be here when you opened your eyes. I might not be a Nord, and I may be a thief, but I do try to keep my word when I give it." He gives the woman next to him a wry smile and adds "Unlike another person we both know."

"And this?"

"I am great at many things, unfortunately, falling asleep in a chair is not one of them. I swear to Nocturnal that I was on the other half of the bed when I joined you. This," the man lifts his hand from her back and gestures over them slowly, "happened of its own volition... I apologize if you feel awkward, Boss."

"No," she tells him, lowering her head back down to where it was originally on his chest. "It...was possibly the best sleep I've had in months, Del." Another yawn escapes her, and the woman sighs. "Guess the body wants more rest... I'll understand if you need to leave though. I've kept you away from stalking Vex all day."

"Just rest, Aisiling." The hand that the thief moved a few moments ago returned to its place on the small of his Guild Master's back. "If you want me to go, just say the word and I'll head back to the Flagon," the older male goes quietly, pressing dry lips into her hair.

He feels her hands grip just a little tighter on his tunic, followed by a small shake of her head in the negative. "Stay? Just a little while longer?"

"For you? Anything."

 **(Why can't I get a bloody line break here I'll never know. Bugger it all)**

 _Support._

 _Honor._

 _Protect._

This time it was Delvin who entered the realm of wakefulness first, sleep encrusted eyes opening to a dim living space, shadows being cast across the room by the early rays of dawn filtering through the window. From what he could see, the pair had shifted positions during the night- Aisling was sprawled out on her back with an arm tucked under him and against his lower back; he was curled into her side, his left leg over hers, and his nose buried into the side of her neck. A slow inhale blesses him with the smell of snowberries, soft and unassuming, hiding the easily overlooked intoxicating scent of nightshade. The hand that was against her back last night was now cupping a half covered hip, pressing her into his... _Oh boy._

It seems that the sneak trainer wasn't the only who realized what the morning gifted him. "Morning to you too," the Nord female murmurs as she stretches, partially pinned underneath him. "Dreamin' bout Vex again?" Blue orbs veiled with sleep peer out of the corner of her eyes as she gives him a slight teasing smile. "Don't worry, I won't be _too_ insulted if you were... Though you might have to buy my silence to not tell her."

"Actually, I wasn't."

"Oh?"

"What goes through the Guild Master's mind when she sleeps?"

Aisling laughs softly at the change in topic, turning her head towards him. "I dream, just as much as the next person."

"That's not an answer," he goes, then a strange look crosses his face. "Was it of Bryn?"

"Hardly. As I said, not a bedpost I want to be a notch on. But yes. It was of a person- my unobtainable, so to speak."

A brownish gray eyebrow arches slightly- now that was something he didn't know about his Guild Master. "Married?"

"No, but the heart's spoken for, unfortunately. Do I hold out some iota of hope? Of course, because in the end, hope's all I have." Before the ginger female could say more, her stomach lets out a growl of protest, Delvin's responding so as not to be outdone. "Well then, guess I should take care of that. Prefer anything specific?"

"I'd be content with just a sweet roll and some mead, to be honest. No need to put yourself out, Aisling."

"You're the someone who stole my sweetroll..." She snorts and manages to peel herself away from both the Breton and the bed, her bare feet not making a sound as she heads towards the kitchen area, pausing only to grab a tunic from a drawer. "Spoken like a true single male. Don't worry, I enjoy cooking... Just don't tell Vekel, lest he either tries to con me into cooking for the whole guild or think I don't eat his food because it's crap."

An abrupt knock on the door distracts the pair from their conversation. "Who... What now?" the Guild Master goes with a sigh, quickly putting the shirt on before unlocking the door. Cracking it, she sees a courier leaning against the side of her home, puffing slightly. "Which idiot is demanding my attentions?" Taking the offered parchment she looks at the seal and just barely bites back a snarl.

"Oblivion take him, what does he want now? Of course the damned bastard would find a way to ruin my first decent night of sleep in months!" Reaching onto a shelf, the woman grabs a small pouch and hands it over to the courier. "Thank you." Without another word, she shuts the door, squeezing the missive in her fist.

"What is it?"

Aisling doesn't answer, just breaks the seal and starts to read:

 **Stormblade,**

 **I have need of your services once more. Please come to Windhelm as soon as you get this.**

 **Ulfric Stormcloak,**

 **High King of Skyrim**

Then she sees a less formal postscript underneath it:

 **Aisling,**

 **I know I am possibly the last person you would want to do any sort of duty for- after how we parted ways at the end of the war, I would not blame you. However, as Galmar loves to remind me every time, you're the best we have. Please, _Dii Vahdin._**

 **Ulfric**

"Damn you. Damn you to the Evergloam, with a brief visit to the Void." Anger filled eyes look up at Delvin, who was leaning against the wall by the fireplace. "I'm afraid I have to put making breakfast on hold for a bit, Del."

"What's wrong Aisling? Who was that from?"

Without a word, the Nord hands the parchment over to the trainer, then stalks down into the basement where various pieces of armor were stored.

"You shouldn't go, at least, not alone," he tells her as he moves to the stop of the steps, respecting her privacy while still continuing the conversation.

A huff floats up the stairwell as he hears the opening and shutting of drawers, the ruffling of leather and the clanking of metal. "Believe me, Mallory. I do not want to go; it's probably the one hold I'm no longer keen on working in- you know as well as Vex I turn down almost every job you have that gets me within five miles of Windhelm. Yet, he is my Jarl and I am his Thane; he is my King and I am his Stormblade. I'm doubly bound to his service- when he calls I must answer...and the bastard knows it, too. Won't let me forget it either."

Soft steps are heard coming back up the stairs and the woman steps back onto the landing, this time clad in her Stormcloak Officer armor, a daedric sword in a scabbard at her hip. "Aisling, not that I'm complaining about how that gear looks on you, but you're going to Eastmarch. It's cold everywhere above Whiterun."

A bare hand cups the side of his face softly. "Silly Breton, I'm a Nord. Cold is nothing in the grand scheme of things. You just don't dress warm enough." She picks up a backpack by the door, preemptively packed in the case she had to leave home at a moment's notice, then pulls a key out from under a pauldron and holds it out to the trainer. "I don't know what the royal asshole needs me to do, so I don't know when I'll be back. You and Bryn are in charge- please keep him in check, and make sure he actually does work. Key's for the house, in case you need to get away from the cistern. I just ask you not bring any visitors- especially of the female variety- over my home's threshold while I'm away from Riften. I might trust you with full access, Delvin, but not anyone else."

The Breton takes the offering without a word and slips it into one of the many pockets of his armor. "Are you sure you will be alright, Boss?" His eyes narrow as she stands there looking at him, hand on the door's handle. Finally he sees Aisling's shoulders shrug slightly.

"Won't know 'til I get there," she goes quietly, then leans over and brushes her lips against his cheek, allowing the cinnamon smell to wash over her one last time. "Eyes open, Del." Without waiting for a response, the woman slips out her front door into the early morning light, not bothering to shut it behind her.

Topaz eyes blink slowly as the lighting changes in the room, a lone finger coming up to touch heated skin. _Nocturnal watch over you, Boss. Come back to us._

* * *

Translations:

 **Dii Vahdin** : My Lady (translated by - it's been a lifesaver for some other things I've been trying to hash out)


	4. Chapter 4

"Do you think she'll come?"

Two sets of eyes, one pair cerulean the other jade, stare down at a rather worn province map. The parchment was littered with holes from flags and stain marks from numerous tankards of mead. This map, once showing the progression of the Civil War against the Empire and its Legion, now showed the movement of the Thalmor.

The other person doesn't say anything for a few minutes, then sighs and goes "Had it been anyone else, Nord or not, I would say no."

"But?"

"But..." Another sigh, then "But I think she will show. Her honor will demand that she answers your call for aid. Whether or not she'll be happy doing so is another matter."

"I didn't have a choice Galmar, you know this." Honey eyebrows flecked with gray furrow as the younger male remembers the events of just over two years ago- his greatest achievement and at the same time his greatest regret.

"Keep tellin' yourself that, Ulfric," the man's Housecarl says, glancing up from the table. "You wanted your throne- you would have forsworn Sovngarde to keep Elisif from becoming High Queen of Skyrim and the Imperials out of our lands. It couldn't have surprised you that the Moot was going to strong arm you into marrying a woman from one of the opposing holds to keep the peace. You were the woolheaded idiot that didn't think of blocking that beforehand. I warned you, Ysarald warned you, by Talos, even Jorleif warned you and he's not one for politics. Now you're stuck with a _proven_ traitorous wife that needs to be executed and war is on our shores again." Galmar huffs in annoyance, having had this discussion with his Lord many times over the past months. "What in the name of Talos were you thinking? Did you seriously think Torygg's woman was just going to forgive and forget you killed her first husband?"

"Not forgive or forget, but at least move on for the sake of Skyrim! All she had to was put on a mask for the public and give me one heir. That's all she was obligated to do, and I would have let her done whatever else she wanted, even if it was to have a string of lovers."

"I will _not_ , under _any_ circumstances, marry a woman I know to be a faithless, conniving, and/or back-stabbing bitch simply because I am absolutely desperate to perpetuate my family line," a voice says from behind them. "Also, if an enemy I have just killed has _any_ relations anywhere, I will find them and have them killed _immediately_ , instead of waiting for them to harbor feelings of vengeance towards me." (Evil Overlord List, Rules 209 and 38 respectively, albeit altered a bit)

"Took you long enough to get up here, Stormblade," Galmar goes to her as he turns around, seeing the tall woman leaning up against the doorframe. "Seems civilian life agrees with you- finally settle down and get lazy?"

"The day I get lazy, General, is the day I move onto whatever afterlife my soul goes to when I die. But that is a discussion for another day." Aisling slowly makes her way into the room, barely giving the other man in the room a second thought. "What I want to know is what was so gods damned important that you had a courier pounding on my door just past dawn this morning? Obviously it involves the idiot's wife if the conversation I overheard is anything to be based on."

The idiot in question slowly raises his head, dull forest orbs locking onto her abnormally empty sapphires. Except for a few new scars, some slightly noticeable gray hairs and perhaps a little bit thinner, she still looked the same after all this time. Ulfric doesn't trust his mouth and brain to work together-they never did in front of the Dragonborn, why should they now?- so all he does is just hold out a well read piece of parchment, which she takes just as quietly. He watches as Aisling's eyes dart across the page, the brows furrowing in thought the further down she goes.

The redheaded officer reads the parchment two more times, each time not truly believing what she saw. She knew both men were waiting for some sort of response, and sighing softly, gestures at Galmar to turn around. At the look he gave her, the woman shakes her head- no, she didn't want him to see what she was about to do. Aisling wouldn't kill Ulfric, oh no, but the less people who saw this, the better for the both of them it would be. As soon as the older man complies, she takes the remaining two steps in front of the man she had once fought for, had once nearly died for, had once given her heart to. Unbidden, her bare hand reaches up and cups his face as it had many times in the past, the coarse facial hair scratching at the calloused palm.

For a moment, the soldier-turned-thief imagined herself back to a time before everything went straight to Oblivion for her, before the end of the war, before the Moot turned Ulfric into one of those milkdrinkers they so despised by giving in to their only demand. The foolish thoughts left just as quickly as they came when Aisling feels him lean into her palm, a contented sigh escaping his mouth. _Not like this. Not again._

She wasn't sure who was more shocked when her hand slapped his face, herself, Ulfric, or Galmar, who had whirled around at the sound of the oddly loud crack. The incredulous look on the High King's face, nor his Housecarl's rambunctious laughter, was not going to stop her from telling the man before him _exactly_ how she felt. "You **dare**? You dare call on me for help in dealing with the woman you tossed me to the side for? For what- a stupid throne? It's _not_ a chair or a title that makes a King, Ulfric... How many people died for you to keep that throne out of Elisif and the Empire's hands, only for you to spit on their memory by rolling over and taking the Moot's collective dick up your arse!? How many of them rallied to your banner to keep the Empire's puppet masters from taking power through Torygg's woman? How many of us did you betray, Uflric, with your words, with your promises? _Do you even know?!_ "

Aisling turns her back and steps away from him, not the smartest thing to do, but she would be _damned_ if the bastard would see her walls on the verge of collapse. Besides, she was tainted now, and she didn't mean in terms regarding her lack of maidenhead. The Nord female pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs, wishing that her Patrons would give her a way out of this. _Damn it all straight to the Evergloam. What did I do to deserve this?_

Ulfric sighed softly, his mossy gaze moving from the slumped shoulders of the woman before him to the now stoic face of his Second. He knew how upset she was the day he allowed the Moot to bind him to the former High King's widow- Aisling might not have shown it on her face, but he could read it in her eyes, the intense sadness and tears threatening to fall nearly broke him the first time. The exhausted man moves towards her, unable to bear not knowing what she never said since the meeting, and places a gentle hand on her bare arm. "Aisling... _Dii Vahdin..._ I know. I'm-"

"Don't you dare say you're sorry, Ulfric Stormcloak!" the fire kissed Nord growls out, whirling around to look at him. "And you lost your right to call me that the afternoon you swore before Talos that you _agreed_ to be bound to Elisif as her husband! I was there at the Temple, I was at your wedding! I prayed, Gods and Daedra how I beseeched someone, anyone, to stop it from happening... No one answered my plea, and so you were married to the woman who up until the Moot was our enemy... All to placate a bunch of Jarls whose loyalty is weaker than a drunk's ability to stay sober."

"Why did you come Aisling?" he murmurs quietly, his hand still wrapped around her bicep. "It's obvious I'm not your favorite person, so why bother?"

She sighs, running long fingers through tousled tresses, then looks into his eyes, her own fatigue evident. "Why? Because you are my Jarl and I am your Thane. I came because you are my King and I am your Stormblade. I am doubly bound to your service, and I am a Nord of my word. When I swear an oath, I keep it...unlike some others."

The verbal jab hit its mark and they all knew it. "Is...that the only reason you're here? Fulfilling an obligation?"

"No," Aisling goes softly as she turns again, this time walking towards the door. When she reaches it, the woman stops, and, after a few moments, adds "But I won't tell you... Galmar. Drinks at Hjerim at seven tonight. Bring me whatever information that has been gathered regarding Elisif's...lack of loyalty to her husband and King. This evening, we plan. Tomorrow I call in favors and then the hunt begins..." Without waiting for an answer, she continues out into the throne room and towards the doors, more than eager to get out of the Palace.

"Well...that went better than expected," the General goes, his gaze moving from the door to his friend. "I personally thought if Stormblade showed up she would have shouted you off a battlement or something. What exactly should I give her?"

"Anything and everything she asks for. As you _love_ to remind me, Galmar, Aisling Stormblade is the best we have. If she wants to interview Elisif, even if it's alone, she can. If she asks for soldiers to attack a possible Thalmor hideout, she gets them."

"...And if she wants your head on a platter when all is said and done?"

"I hope I have enough time to convince her otherwise..."

* * *

Days turn into weeks. Weeks turn into months. Winter gives way to Spring. Periodically a letter would make its way to the guild by courier from the Guild Master, being passed on by the Altmer fence Niranye. The information wasn't much- just that Aisling was breathing and physically in one piece, though she questioned her emotional well being once or twice after a particular trying day; there was nothing written, though, about what she was doing in Windhelm.

"You know she'll be back any day now, yes?"

Delvin's head looks up from the bottle in from of him, tired eyes falling on his niece's face. "Don't know what you're talking about Sapphire."

"You have the same tells as my father when you're lying," the brunette goes, sitting in the chair across from him. "The most obvious one for you though is a slight twitch in your right eye. Then there's the way you moved where you tend to sit- instead of your back to the cistern, you sit where you can see both ways in. That tells me you're waiting for something, or _someone_. And since the Guild Master is the only one who's been gone for an extended period of time, wasn't that hard to figure out... That and you've been seen coming out of her home every so often." She reaches out and grabs the mead bottle that once again had his focus and takes a drink of the golden liquid held within. "Seems an old dog can be taught a new trick or two... I was wonderin' if you were ever going to have your world stop revolvin' round Vex. Honestly, was downright depressing- like kicking a puppy."

"Would you rather I had been like Brynjolf and went after anything that walked?"

"Gods no- one incorrigible horny bastard down here is enough. You... do realize she's turned down almost every male in the guild that's propositioned her, right?" A nod is the only answer the woman gets. "I only ask because the odds seem against you. What makes you think she would change her mind?"

The male sighs, then grabs another unopened bottle of mead. "I don't. But even if it doesn't work, I can still give the Boss something that she's been lackin' since she came here."

"Something other than a tumble under the sheets? The Eight know a good fuck would get her to loosen up a bit."

Before Delvin can answer her skeptical question, Rune walks up to him from the Ratway entrance. "Courier asked me to pass this to you Del, didn't say who it was from though." The younger thief holds out a folded piece of parchment that's sealed in with blue wax.

"Thanks Rune," he goes, his topaz eyes peering at the symbol pressed into the seal but not recognizing it. Breaking the barrier, the parchment unfolds in the thief's hands revealing a familiar handwriting.

 _Today is the last day of Rain's Hand. Assuming it takes the courier takes a day to reach Riften, you should get this no later (gods willing, of course) than the second day of Second Seed. If you're able, the third, around six at night at Honeyside? I'll cook dinner since breakfast didn't happen. And this time you don't even have to break in...if you haven't lost my key, that is._

"Well?"

Delvin's eyes glance over at his niece as his fingers slip the parchment into a pocket. "Well?"

Sapphire throws a crumpled paper at him with a screech. "You know _damned_ well what I'm asking."

"What was that you said?" He puts a hand around his right ear. "I'm having a hard time hearing you. Must be because I'm- what did you call me? Oh that's right... _Old_."

The woman just puts her head in her hands, mumbling under her breath "I'm dealing with idiots." She looks up at him, glaring at his smirking expression and growls out "Keep your secrets, but know they won't stay that way long."

"When I know, Sapphire, believe me, the Guild won't be too far behind in knowing either."

* * *

A/N: Oh Ulfric, you idiot...

The first section I decided to write because I realized I needed to explain exactly why Aisling a little more than slightly annoyed at the missive she received. It's odd though. I tend to be rather...pro-Ulfric in my leanings with things, but I will admit, I enjoyed having him be a regretful sellout. If the spirit moves me, I might consider writing what happens after Aisling's arrival in Windhelm, but that's for another day. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

So I'm skipping Aisling's time running around Eastmarch and the rest of Skyrim for this story, mainly because for the most part it won't have much of an influence on what happens... I think. I have no idea. But I have started writing it, and when I get a bit more put together I'll start putting it up. The first chapter will be pretty much the Ulfric/Galmar/Aisling section of the previous chapter, just to set it up. But we'll get the whys and whatnot answered eventually!

Alright, time for the story to actually earn that M rating. Now, if you think my regular writing is poor to average at best, my smutty mcsmuttsmut is poor at best. I can only get better right? RIGHT?! But please, do tell me how I can make it better 3

* * *

The next afternoon saw a battle-worn soldier with thievish tendencies (or was it a war-weary thief with soldier-like tendencies? Aisling wasn't quite sure anymore) stumbling through the front door of her home, closing and locking it behind her. Everything the Nord woman was carrying got dropped next to the door- bags filled with legitimately acquired loot and not so legally gotten, her helmet, shield and scabbard with sword right behind them. Bracers, followed by the remaining armor she wore, got chucked blindly into corners. Her body screamed at her in exhaustion and pain, cursing at her for dancing to the Bear of Markarth's tune, for living up to the stereotype of being a relatively honorable Nord. _Thieves and Honor don't mix, Ais. Next time, let Ulfric rot in whatever shit he lands in, regardless of your oaths. It's no more than he deserves, even after all this time._ She bites back a yawn as she makes her way over to her bed and, after collapsing face down on it, pulls the snow bear fur blanket over her naked form, letting the somehow still lingering cinnamon smell lull her to sleep. _Just a short nap is all I need. I have plenty of time before I have to cook..._

As she slept, the thief figured her mind decided that it's human had dealt with enough horker shit in the waking world, and blessed her with images of strong hands rubbing at aching muscles, followed by featheresque caresses against her jaw and sides. The feeling of chapped lips and a wet tongue, outlined by just the hint of scruff, come soon after that, giving Aisling the notion of someone worshiping her scarred and broken body.

Normally, the self-deprecating ginger would swear emphatically that no man (or woman, for that matter) in their right mind would want anything to do with her, but both her mind and body were enjoying this so much that she could put off waking up just a little bit longer.

A soft sigh of enjoyment escapes her mouth as that relaxed feeling trails down from her neck, over and around her breasts, spreading out across her torso and settling heavily just below her hips. When the warmth doesn't continue moving, the woman whimpers, snaking her hand downwards to try and... _help_ that feeling along just a bit.

Unfortunately for Aisling, the wall between what she thought was a dream and the reality of her situation starts to come crashing down when a very real hand grabbed onto her arm and moved it onto the mattress beneath her. Then came the feeling of a tip of a tongue slipping in between her folds, followed by a pair of probing fingers. The female thief grabs onto the sheet beneath her in an attempt to keep her rather traitorous hips from thrusting upwards, failing miserably. In her sleep mixed with lust haze, she somewhat likened this to a bard playing an instrument- every touch coaxing out a different sound from her mouth, a song that only the two of them could hear.

All good things come to an end, and sadly mortals can not fuck indefinitely- even the Dragonborn Guild Master. A strange sound of a whimper blending in with a moan escapes the ginger woman's lips, the lower half of her body arching up against her unknown partner's face. Muscles- even ones Aisling didn't know she _had_ \- tighten moments before a very intense orgasm shoots through her body, leaving the woman panting and shaking, but that doesn't stop the look of utter bliss from breaking out across her face.

A calloused hand slowly leads her body down to the mattress and back down to earth. Coming back to herself somewhat, the woman opens heavily lidded eyes, a glazed look falling upon mischievous topazes glinting up through the shadows made by her still raised legs. Crimson eyebrows furrow in confusion, and she pinches the side of her thigh to make sure that she's not still dreaming. _Nope. Still there._ "Wha..."

"I was a little hungrier than I thought, so I helped myself." A smirk crosses the Breton's face as he slips his tongue back in, cleaning up the mess that he would freely and proudly admit that he caused. "But had I known my meal of choice tasted this amazing, I would not have waited this long..."

Maybe she was imagining it, or maybe she was still foggy from the strange yet not altogether unwelcome way her guild's Sneak Trainer pulled her from sleep's embrace, but to Aisling it seemed that Delvin's usually calm voice sounded different- darker and lust laden. "Seems I can't get annoyed about you breaking into my house, Mallory, considering I gave you the key..." the Guild Master goes breathlessly, "But I can ask you this. What in the name of Nocturnal..."

Slightly damp fingers cover her mouth, effectively silencing the rest of her question. "I normally pride myself on being a bit more observant than most, but how I missed this..." Keeping his hand over her mouth, the older man moves at an agonizingly slow speed up the Nord's figure, pressing his lips against random spots. When he reaches eye level, Delvin says in a near whisper "Did you think I wouldn't find out? That I was perhaps oblivious? Or maybe it was the fact you thought it wasn't reciprocated and that's why you never said anything?"

"We're thieves. We're supposed to always be aware of all that goes on around us, noticeable or not." Aisling slips her tongue out to moisten her dry lips, tasting herself on his fingers. _Yes, that did happen._ Dark sapphires narrow as nerve endings come down from sensory overload and start properly sending information to her brain. _Pants. He is only wearing pants._ Moving faster and catching the other thief unawares, she locks her legs around the older male's and starts to roll the pair over, aiming to pin him underneath her.

The action was _**great**_ in theory, but absolute _**shit**_ in execution as the woman didn't take into consideration the weight of the trainer's broader frame leaning down against hers. "None of that," he goes, pressing her back against the mattress with ease, then continues the forward motion and presses his mouth against Aisling's hungrily.

In an instant the woman responds in kind, her arms sliding around bare shoulders and latching her teeth into his lower lip. A low feral growl escapes Delvin's throat and he pulls back slightly, giving the female thief the ability to once again roll the two over. Whether it was due to the grace of her Patron or his distraction, Aisling manages to reverse their positions, her palms pressing against his shoulders. "You've had your fun," she goes with a purr as she claims his mouth with hers, "Now it's _my_ turn."

Her naked form slides downwards, tongue periodically darting out to taste the Breton's skin, stopping when she feels the linen of his pants hit her chin. With one hand latching onto the dark fabric and the other hand cupping his hip, Aisling brings both man and clothing down towards the end of her bed. Trousers get thrown over her shoulder, the fingers of her other hand lightly wrapping around his twitching arousal. Delvin's back arches slightly as his eyes flutter shut, a barely audible moan hitting her ears.

 _Well this won't do, no it won't._ Instead of flicking at her fellow thief's forehead to gain his attention, her free hand reaches up and tweaks his nipple none too gently. Darkening amber orbs glance down at her, giving her his now undivided attention. "Sit up and eyes front, Mallory. I want to be able to see and feel every reaction you're having, and I can't do that if you're laying back." As soon as he does what he's told, an impish smile flickers across the Guild Master's face, then she leans forward, taking him into her mouth with a contented sigh.

"Gods Aisling," he breathes out, her name a prayer on goatee framed lips. Rough fingers tangle themselves in the waves of fire enveloping her head, just itching to just force it all the way down but resists the primal urge to fuck her mouth...just barely. The thief loses himself in the slow movements of her head, the warmth of her mouth, the soft caress of her tongue and just the _hint_ of teeth getting dragged along the underside. Before the Breton realizes it, his other hand latches itself into her unrestrained locks and holds her head in place while thrusting deep into her mouth- the battle of wills lost. A muffled sound vibrates around his shaft, and the tormented body part twitches eagerly in response. _More..._ Delvin feels a soft squeeze against his calf, and, taking that as encouragement, moves back just enough to give her a slight reprieve, then pushes straight in to the hilt.

Nearly black eyes flicker shut as Aisling lets out a moan, the long fingers of her left hand drifting downwards to between her thighs, soft touches caressing her already sensitive area. A whine of disapproval escapes her as the man beneath her forces her head back and yanks her bodily up and onto the bed. She meets his gaze, just a little bit of hurt and some confusion in her voice when she asks "What is it?" Then, in a slightly quieter voice, "Did I do something wrong?"

He doesn't say anything, just flips her over and presses her upper body down into the mattress. Delvin grabs her hips in a vice like grip and roughly pushes himself inside her with a groan of relief. "No," the man says in between thrusts, his left hand snaking around to Aisling's front and rubbing at the throbbing bundle of nerves in between her drenched folds. "It's just been so long...far too long. You're so soft...warm...tight, too"

The ginger writhes against the Sneak Master's fingers, gasping as the digits change speed to follow her body, pushing back to meet his thrusts. "Gods, Del, what do I have to do to get you back on jobs again? Not having fingers like these bringing in coin to the guild is a crime!"

A chuckle hits her ear as his weight settles carefully on her back, followed by a soft kiss being pressed into her neck. "I'm sure my Guild Master will discover that my fingers as well as the rest of my skills are at her disposal for any and all jobs she feels I could be of use for...even those that are on a more _personal_ level." He plunges into her again, latching his teeth into the softness of her earlobe, causing the woman underneath him to groan and tilt her head to grant him better access. "In fact, I would almost insist that she uses them _exclusively_."

Any restraint or dignity the two thieves might have still had at this point of their night got thrown out the window into the middle of the lake, their instincts taking over as the only sounds that could be heard in the house were grunts and moans mixed in with panting and skin hitting skin. The friction of the experienced thief's fingers, along with the constant rubbing of his cock against that _oh so wonderful_ sweet spot kept pushing Aisling closer to the edge once more. When her release finally came, the woman screamed the Breton's name so loud she wouldn't have been surprised if they not only heard her down in the Flagon, but clear up to Solstheim and throughout the planes of Oblivion. And honestly, she didn't care. _Let them all gossip._

Delvin tightens the hold he has on her as the Guild Master jerked against him, her muscles tightening it's hold around his cock as if wanting to drain him of everything he had. The older man tries to think of something, _anything_ else to delay the inevitable, but his body wasn't having any of it, and with a low moan, thrusts himself as deep as he could into her, filling the auburn haired Nord with his seed. His strength gives out on him and he collapses on top of Aisling, still joined to her.

* * *

There you go. Like I said, not great. But hey, I'm relatively content with it. Comments and criticism are welcome, but flames will be used to not only keep me warm, but help me get over my fever and congestion!


	6. Chapter 6

Eventually Delvin shifts the pair onto their side, his chest still to her back, arms and legs wrapped around the other. The Breton grabs at the snow bear fur down by the foot of the bed- how that managed to _not_ end up on the floor, the man would never know- and pulls the soft material up over their entwined bodies. Mainly it was because he was cold, and that would be the excuse he would use if asked, but the male thief would be damned if someone tried to ogle his Guild Master through the window.

"A welcome home greeting I certainly wasn't expecting," the woman murmurs, slowly rolling over to face him so as to not completely untangle themselves. "I know I was supposed to feed you, Del, but that went above and beyond what I was thinking."

She feels his fingers reach up and brush back some of the tousled red strands of hair from her line of vision, the rough fingertips soft against her sweat glistening skin. "Do you regret it?" Delvin inquires quietly, the vibrations in his chest causing her to somehow manage to curl up closer.

"What we just did? No."

"But?"

A sigh, then "But... I suppose I'm...disappointed. Not in your performance- gods, that was more than satisfactory. I'm disappointed that I can't hope for a repeat performance."

"Well...not right now," he goes, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish expression on his face. "I'm not as young as I used to be, Aisling. I can't go as many rounds as those half my age." His hand drops to her side and his fingertips start to trace seemingly random patterns against pale skin. "But, as I told you, _all_ of my skills are at your disposal and therefore, I would not be against making this a regular occurrence."

The young woman doesn't say anything, just gently maneuvers her body free from his hold and slips out from under the warm fur. Topaz orbs stare at Aisling's naked body, taking note of every scar, every blemish, every mark on the pale skin. He wanted to know and experience her in ways he never had with another person, and his once flaccid cock twitched in agreement at the prospect. _Well then, maybe Sapphire was right. You can teach an old dog a new trick. Just need the right treat_. Her bare feet tread quietly on the wood floor, and the only way Delvin could figure where she was going when he heard the creak of the stairs leading to the basement. _She's not leaving again...is she?_ When the Nord returned carrying nothing save a small bottle in her hands, the trainer gave a silent sigh of relief. "What is that?"

"Something that I got the recipe for from two...associates of mine over in Whiterun- Vilkas and Farkas. They call on me when the job is a bit more questionable than they'd like to do, or if they need to get their hands on things that are somewhat difficult to obtain. I get more than a fair cut of the payment, they don't gripe about how I get their items- it's a very symbiotic relationship. And then there were other benefits." Aisling carefully places the corked vessel on the end table before slipping back under the warm white blanket covering the bed.

" _Other_ benefits?"

An eyebrow twitches slightly in amusement. "Yes, Mallory, the kind of benefits that involves me being fucked against a wall...or a table... or in a chair. Did you seriously think I was still a virgin at my age?"

Images of him taking Aisling over every possible surface in the Flagon flew through his mind. "And are you still... Involved with them?" _Or anyone else?_ Hung in the air, unasked.

"Gods, stop skirting around the issue and just ask the question. You want to know if I'm currently fucking anyone. The answer is, no, I'm not. Before tonight, the last time I had been with anyone was..." Her nose crinkles slightly as she thinks for a moment, "...right before Irkngthand. I didn't know if I was coming back alive from the fight with Mercer, even with Nocturnal's blessings upon myself, Bryn and Karliah. I almost didn't, truth be told. I suppose that's when I put things into perspective. Though I'm not sure why my nightly romps under the furs are any of your bloody business, Del, or anyone else's for that matter. It's not like I ask you who you've fucked the last few months."

"That was well over a year ago, when you chased Mercer into that ruin. But I don't care who you've fucked or who fucked you," Delvin growls out as he rolls them over, trapping her underneath him. His larger hands latch onto the younger woman's arms and pull them over her head, saying "But I do know that _I_ am going to be the one satisfying you every night, every morning, and all times in between. No one else."

"You? Seem mighty damn sure of yourself there, Del... And here I thought Brynjolf had the biggest ego of the males in Riften." Stormy blues stare into smoldering golds, locked in a battle of wills. Then a slight smirk crosses Aisling's face as she moves her right leg slowly upwards against his inner thigh. "What was that you said earlier? Something about not being able to have a repeat performance right away? Seems like you've just got proven wrong there, Mallory."

"This is all your doing and you know it. My question is what do you plan on doing about it."

She carefully frees her wrists from his grasp over her head, then leans him back so that he's supported by the other pillows next to her. As she slides herself back on top of him, a thought occurred to her. "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be glad to be indebted to your brother." A moan escapes the redhead's lips as she lowers herself down, sheathing him inside her once more. "And maybe Ulfric. Not sure about that one just yet."

"Glover?" Delvin looks up at Aisling as if she had just grown two heads. "Did you hit your head tonight and I not know it?"

A soft chuckle escapes the Nord's mouth as she begins to move, batting away his too eager hands from grabbing onto her thighs. "You know damned well I don't like heading up to Windhelm unless I have a damned good reason. The one thing that will have me go there on a whim is because that is the only place where I can get a boat to Raven Rock. Glover might have made some questionable decisions, but he can and has given out some sage advice...if he likes you well enough. I was going to go see him to figure out the best way to pull your head out of your ass...or if I should just let it go altogether and try moving on."

The Breton lets out a low moan as he feels her inner walls tighten around him and he thrusts up into her, smiling as the woman above him lets out a gasp of her own. "Please don't tell him. I'll never be able to live it down..." Brown eyes take in her figure poised on top of him- the unbound waves of red cascading around her shoulders, toned muscles rippling under pale skin. Calloused fingers reach up and brush lightly against some of the scars he could reach, one of which either started or ended dangerously close to her heart around the inner part of her ribs. "What caused this...how did you survive it?"

He feels her stiffen above him, a haunted look appearing in her eyes as she refuses to meet his gaze. Finally one word escapes her lips. "Mercer." She tries to stop the stream of words from her mouth, but fails miserably, "When we went to Snow Veil Sanctum. If it wasn't for Karliah's arrow," here Aisling points at a scar just above the original scar in question, "I'd have bled out and died... Needless to say, the bastard died to a matching wound in the second confrontation. Almost wish I could have dragged his body out of Irkngthand, found a necromancer, and brought the son of a bitch back to life a few times just to kill Frey over and over." She doesn't look at him when she asks the question that's been weighing on her mind for many months while she was running around the entirety of Skyrim. "Does that make me a monster?"

"No. Mercer was a threat and you dealt with it accordingly, no one in the Guild would call your actions into question." The topic of what exactly happened when Aisling and their former Guild Master went to Snow Veil Sanctum was never discussed. Not that it was forgotten, more like it got tabled until that traitorous son of a bitch was dealt with, then with the rebuilding of the guild and bringing it back to the greatness it held more than thirty years ago. Eventually, for most of the members, the events of Frey's treachery faded to the background. Never did they think of how it affected their current Guild Master- not that she ever said anything. "I'm sorry, Aisling... I wouldn't have asked if I had known." His normally warm eyes become icy, hardening at just how truly close they had come to losing her.

A slow grind of her hips snaps the male's attention back to her, the cold expression melting into one of lust. "The man is dead. If he wasn't I'm sure we would have heard something about it by now, with all the eyes and ears we have everywhere."

When she goes to grind her hips against him a second time, Delvin grabs onto her waist and pulls her body flush to his. "We can discuss everything later," he orders as he rolls back on top of her. "The only thing I want coming out of your mouth is my name, nothing else."

The pair start moving again, the motions changing from teasingly slow strokes and strong, rhythmic thrusts that, had there not been pillows behind Aisling, would definitely had her hitting her head once or twice on the wall behind them. His strong hands wrapped around her shoulders from behind, her legs trying to bring him even deeper than humanly possible- they were lost in each other, wanting to force away the negative feelings brought up by the mention of Mercer's name.

She lets out a whimper as he drives into her, somehow yet again finding a sweet spot- the spikes of pleasure spreading out through her body and turning her limbs into a mass of goo. Her sore muscles tighten once more, causing her back to arch upwards off the mattress. A breathy moan escapes Aisling's mouth, followed by "Please Del...want...need..."

"Tell me what you need, Aisling," the man above her murmurs into the soft skin of her neck. He looks at her when he doesn't receive a response, brushing a lone tear from her cheek. "Tell me," he repeats softly, "Ask it of me, and I will move mountains to give it to you."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," the ginger whispers, more to herself than to him.

A wry smirk crosses Delvin's face as he taps her nose lightly. "I'm a thief. I make things happen...for a price." His face becomes serious once more as he repeats "Tell me."

 _And I can see that price being you walking out and never coming back..._ "You, Del... I just want you. I just need you, nothing else. It's only been you, Mallory, that I've wanted since Irkngthand."

The Breton's eyes blink slowly as his brain attempts to process what she told him (it's not his fault most men are programmed to only use one head at a time!). "Oh Lass..."

And then, everything just... _stopped._

"Get. Out."

"What?"

"You heard me, Mallory. Get the _fuck_ out, before I show you exactly what I was learning up at High Hrothgar."

A confused look flickers across the Breton's face as he takes the woman's chin in a soft hold. "Aisling... What did I do?"

"If you really have to ask, then you're not the man I thought you were," she tells him, her voice cracking betraying the cool mask of indifference she forced onto her face. "Now, I'll ask nicely, one last time. Please leave."

"Not like this, Aisling, please. Tell me what's wrong!"

Soft fingers cup a scruff laden cheek as watery blues meet pleading browns. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry."

"Whatever for?"

A sigh, then she responds with "This." She presses a kiss to his mouth, tongue slowly slipping in between parted lips. He breathes out a moan as the sensual action causes his mouth to tingle slightly.

It was when the tingle started spreading from other parts of his body that the Breton thief knew something wasn't right. If anything, he likened the feeling to sitting on his leg and it becoming numb due to lack of circulation. When Delvin tried to rub his fingers in the hopes of getting rid of the odd sensation, he realized that not only could he not move his arms, but his legs were useless as well.

 _What in the name of Nocturnal?_

The last thing the Sneak Trainer sees before his vision clouds over was Aisling gingerly pushing him off of her body and onto the mattress, pale cheeks streaked with tear trails, and the only thing he could wonder was why.

* * *

A/N: Welp, you done fucked up royally Delvin. And you were doing so well!


	7. Chapter 7

When the male wakes up some time later, he finds himself somehow fully dressed and propped up against a tree on the shore of Lake Honrich, the Riften Fishery seen in the distance. A groan escapes his mouth as he tries to get on his feet, the throbbing in his temples making all form of movement damn near impossible.

 _You've done gone and fucked up there, old man,_ he thinks to himself as gravity once again proves that it is the master of all, forcing him back down onto the ground again. _How in the name of Oblivion did you forget that the Guild Master was born under the sign of the Serpent?_

"I've been looking for you. Got something I'm supposed to deliver- your hands only."

Cloudy citrine eyes blink at the courier standing before him in confusion. "What? I wasn't expecting anything."

The Imperial just gives the thief a shrug, then starts rummaging through his pockets, pulling out a letter and nods. "Let's see here... Ah. Yes. I remember now. From the Thane of Falkreath- seemed like a wreck when she handed this over to me as I passed by her homestead." He hands it over to the puzzled thief with a slight smile. "Looks like that's it, got to go!"

"But I don't...know..." Before the Breton could finish his statement, the courier was off and running to do his next delivery. With a sigh, Delvin unfolds the letter and starts reading the familiar script flowing across the page.

 _Delvin-_

 _First... I'd like to apologize for leaving as I did. I should have explained to you what exactly set me off, but I was too angry, too upset, too triggered to think logically. Though, I will admit, part of the fault falls into your lap- not just forgetting the little things I know you looked into when I first joined the Guild, but seriously, calling me that? You know how much I utterly loathe that word...then again, maybe you don't._ Here there was a blot of ink, as if the sender was trying to figure out what to write next _. I suppose that's my fault for not putting a stop to Brynjolf's nonsense sooner, and in a more public manner._

 _Before you tell me that if I let Brynjolf get away with calling me that, then it should be fine for anyone else to use it, let me ask you this- if he told you he somehow found a way into the Deadlands and wanted to steal Mehrunes Dagon's smalls for a lark, would you go along with that stupidity? I would like to think not. I have been telling my rather obtuse Second since before he and I left for Irkngthand- in private, mind you- that I didn't appreciate his rather diminutive pet name, especially after I learned his rather liberal usage of the word with other women. However, to quote you, he's a rather stubborn Nord- once he's made his mind up, nothing will ever change his mind once he's made a decision. I suppose I just became resigned to the fact that no amount of threatening, pleading and the like would make that blasted mule budge._

 _Could I have fought harder on the issue with him? Of course. But, even over a year later, the ramifications of what Mercer did is still being felt by most of us. It is because of this that I show a united front with Brynjolf before the members of the Guild- the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one in my case._

 _Of course, it wasn't until after I managed to carry you outside of Riften that I had a sobering thought come to me. I remembered a conversation I had with your brother, with him telling me what he knew of the motley family I had become head of after Mercer's death. He had spoken of your and his years growing up in Honorhall Orphanage, of how you and Brynjolf had been- pardon the cliche- thick as thieves, a friendship that has surprisingly continued to this day. Then I realized that because of that closeness, both of you were bound to pick up some habits from the other- good ones and unfortunately bad ones. And, I'm ashamed to say, I ran._

 _At this point, I don't know where my feet will take me- currently I'm at Lakeview Manor, my home in Falkreath Hold. Surprising, isn't it, that the head of the Thieves Guild could be considered honorable enough to given the title of Thane. Normally the quiet of the place would help me get my mind in order, but for some reason peace is elusive. Don't worry, I won't_ _ **go searching**_ _for trouble, such as looking up our cousins on the other side of Falkreath. If trouble should_ _ **find me**_ _, on the other hand…_

 _Eyes open, Del, and walk with the shadows._

 _Aisling_

The bald Breton blinks as he comes to the end of the letter, and can't help the small chuckle that escapes him at the thought of the miscommunication between the two as he puts the parchment in a pocket. _Damn it, Aisling, what did I tell you about relying on others instead of shouldering your burdens alone. I swear to Nocturnal, when you get back, I am going to do everything in my power to break you of your bad habits...after I take you on every single flat surface of your house. More than once. At least until you can't walk. Speaking of walking..._ Delvin huffs in exasperation as he finally gets his body cooperating with his mind and manages to get off the ground. _Let's see if I can make it back to the Flagon without falling on my face..._

* * *

Three weeks. Three weeks since Aisling used the skill of her birth sign on Delvin. Three weeks since he woke up to find himself under a tree and her gone. Three weeks from when he had went down to the Guild to see if any knew her whereabouts. Three weeks and still none of the people keeping an eye for her out had any news. It was like she just disappeared from Skyrim altogether, but the older thief, like the rest of the Guild, held onto some hope that she was fine. But it was also three weeks since the Breton last stepped foot out of Honeyside, refusing to leave the home until their wayward Guild Master returned.

A rather insistent knock dragged the trainer out of his dazed state, having lost himself to his thoughts as he stared at the fire going in the fireplace. Through the door he could hear someone call out to him "Delvin, open the damned door. Do _not_ make me have to pick this lock. There's someone here with news of the Guild Master!"

That certainly had him moving. Rising from the seat, the man hurriedly goes to the door, pulls back the lock, and opens it, revealing the auburn haired Second and a hooded old man in gray robes. "Tell me," he whispers tiredly as his hand covers his eyes from the bright sunlight. "She's not...is she?"

"You are the one called Delvin Mallory?" the robed man asks him. At the Breton's nod, he continues "I am Master Arngeir, of High Hrothgar."

"A Greybeard? The Guild Master spoke some of her time under your...tutelage. How is it that she ended up at your monastery?"

"A resident of Ivarstead who brings us supplies every so often, found her unconscious during his trek up the 7,000 Steps. Knowing that she studied with us, he brought her to High Hrothgar for care. It was the first time we allowed an outsider into our halls, and the second is before us now. The Dragonborn has been ill, but in her brief moments of lucidity, she has been asking for you, Delvin Mallory."

Delvin's gaze moves from the strange old man to his brother in shadows, the unasked question in worried topaz eyes.

"Do you even have to ask? We'll manage somehow. Just bring her home, Del. That's all I ask of you."

"Even if I have to carry her down the steps myself, Bryn, I will. I'll leave right..." He looks down and looks at his rather disheveled appearance. "Right after I clean up. I must smell as appalling as I look."

The ginger just chuckles and goes "Like you just took a bath in the sewers, my friend. I'm sure the Guild Master wouldn't mind you utilizing her bathing chamber to make yourself ready for the visit... Or better yet, going through her drawers to bring her clothes?"

Had Delvin been in a more jesting mood, he probably would have responded in kind. Instead, the emotionally drained thief just says "Bring the Greybeard to the Bee and Barb to wait for me. Kindly do not leave our guest alone, Brynjolf, and keep your bloody hands to yourself."

* * *

A/N: Well now, Master Arngeir came down from the mountain. I can only imagine what's going through his head at the realization that the Last Dragonborn keeps company with sneak thieves- certainly a big difference between Aisling and Talos of Atmora, yes?

Regarding using birth signs instead of standing stones: While in the game I can appreciate being able to change the power you receive from the stones (or have two if you have the aetherial crown), everyone else is relegated (in theory) by one stagnant sign based on when they're born... It also doesn't hurt that every Skyrim playthrough I tend to pick the same standing stone (after being forced to pick one in game after Helgen...unless we can completely skip it?). Maybe this limits me, I don't honestly know. Personal preference I suppose.

Upcoming in this story: Arngeir and Delvin talk as they climb the 7000 Steps; Del and Aisling reunite and our usually reserved Breton gives our Nord Guild Master a piece of his mind.


	8. Chapter 8

The old priest attempted to make conversation with the pensive thief on their way up the Throat of the World, but Angeir wasn't able to pull anything from the man. That didn't stop him, however, from regaling his companion with stories of Aisling's time with the Greybeards. Finally he was able to coax something out of him.

"Could this have all been avoidable?"

A thoughtful hum escapes the hooded man as he thinks on the question posed to him. "Anything in the end can be avoided, but if that happens, important lessons can be missed. You've learned through first hand experience that your Guild Master is more complex than she lets on. And as for the young woman... I've had the pleasure of knowing Aisling since she first climbed these steps almost three years ago. She's dealt with dragons, war, betrayal, shouldering the burdens of facing death on her own and, with the exception of locating words of power, never asking for help..." Brown orbs peer out from underneath the hood as the Greybeard continues, "...until now. You obviously must mean something to her if you were the first person she asks help from. And I can suppose the feelings are mutual, if what your redheaded friend said still holds true."

"It does." The Breton's eyes narrow at the pensive expression now on Arngeir's face, his mind thinking to what exactly he is carrying with him this night. _If you only knew how true._ "You don't seem pleased with the thought."

"Pleased? Time will tell with that. Surprised? Very much so. The Last Dragonborn, blessed by Akatosh with the blood and soul of a dragon, cavorting with thieves and assassins. I wonder if her predecessors are appalled or laughing at the irony of the situation."

A gray flecked eyebrow twitches, the only sign that Delvin is a little more than annoyed at the comment. "I think they'd be rather proud at what Aisling was able to accomplish, her choice of associates notwithstanding. You or one of the members of your order might be able to kill me with a word, Master Arngeir, but don't think I will take your veiled insult of my Guild Master quietly. She's done and sacrificed more than enough, not just for us thieves, but for the whole of Skyrim. I think she's entitled to make her own decisions now, don't you?"

The strange pair continue their long trek up the snow covered steps in silence, but as High Hrothgar comes into view, the monk holds the thief back once more. "Perhaps the order erred in passing judgment on you too soon, Delvin Mallory, with our thought that tempering the dragon fire that burns within her blood would be ill-advised."

"What do you mean?"

"Ysmir, or as we sometimes refer to them as "Dragon of the North"- those who come to High Hrothgar with the blood and soul of a dragon, not those who simply descended from one or are trained to use the Voice- are very rare, women even more so as the only one known was Alessia. Therefore, we do not truly know what the influence of the dragon aspect on females. Regardless, for some reason, the Dragonborn has chosen you for support at this time, and we will not question her judgment. However... she has become family to us. Hurt her and you'll wish we only shouted you off the mountain. Do we have an understanding, thief?"

Amber eyes blink slowly, the mind trying to process what the man was told while attempting to keep the body warm at the same time. _Did he just...?_ "We do...though I'm surprised that for those who supposedly feel that the Voice should be used strictly for the worship and glory of the gods, you're advocating using it for more violent purposes... at least, that's what I've heard from Aisling."

"Just because the Greybeards train in the use of the Voice does not mean that is our only means of defending ourselves," Arngeir goes with a mocking smile as he starts walking towards the monastery's stairs once more. "We don't just meditate up here, you know."

The older man leads Delvin up the stairs and into the monastery, the Breton thief wondering at the complete and utter silence of the place. Perhaps, when normalcy returned to their lives, he would ask Aisling more regarding the people who lived at the top of the Seven Thousand Steps. Brown eyes narrow as he realizes that Arngeir is leading him further and further away from the main area of the building. "You have her this isolated?" he asks as the two stop in front of a rather ornate, if heavy, door.

"Originally no, but we were told by the head of our order to place her in here." The Greybeard reaches into a pocket and pulls a key from his robes. As he hands the item over, Arngeir goes "When all is said and done, thief, I'm sure Paarthunax will wish to speak with you, so do not expect to leave so soon."

"I'm not leaving here until Aisling is well enough to travel with me. I'll not leave her, even if she tells me to." Delvin watches as the wizened man turns and walks back the way they came, then, after taking a deep breath, slips the key into the lock and turns it. Another pause, then he opens the door, steps into the room and shuts the door behind him.

As the thief puts the lock back into place, a voice goes "It's...not safe for anyone to be in here. Get out." Before Mallory could respond though, he hears a soft sniffing then a quiet "Del? What...what are you doing here? How?"

"Your Master Arngeir came to Riften to bring me here, said something about you asking for me," he tells Aisling as he turns from the door and moves further into the room, his topaz eyes looking to see where she is. "And I did tell you, I'd do anything you'd ask of me Aisling...within reason, of course."

"Except leave, no doubt. Which you should- leave I mean. It's not safe, especially for you."

"Precisely. I won't leave, and no amount of threats will change my mind."

"Bullheaded Breton." His gaze falls on her form, which was curled up on a fur blanket in front of the roaring fireplace and clad in her usual breast band and linen pants. She sighs in resignation "Chances are Paarthunax ordered him to get you- Arngeir has not hidden his rather extreme dislike in my chosen profession or in regards to my choice of associates. I apologize that he made you come all the way up into this frozen place for nothing, Delvin."

"It doesn't seem like nothing to me, " the trainer goes, moving to lay down next to her. Brushing some strands of hair out of her face, he asks quietly "What is wrong?"

"Nothing. Everything. If it's not the Daedra playing their games with me, it's the bloody Nine that do it. Akatosh must be laughing at me by this point, giving me this aspect of a dragon was _not_ what I was wanting." She starts as Delvin pulls her against him, his arms wrapping around her nearly bare back without a care in the world. "I need you to..." the auburn haired thief starts to say and then she inhales.

"You need me to what, Aisling?" Calloused fingers drift softly over trembling pale skin as the older man tries to coax an answer from her. "All you have to do is ask."

The answer comes by way of her left hand cupping the side of Delvin's face, followed by the right clutching onto the black leather of his chest piece. "I need you to shut up and put that mouth to better use."

Rolling the woman underneath him, the broader man puts his arms on either side of Aisling's head and looks down at her. "I won't end up coming to naked and in a snow drift this time, will I?" Before she can respond, Delvin presses her bare shoulders flush to the blanket and slams his mouth against hers- not that he was expecting an answer, that is.

He feels her fingers traveling across the pocket lined leather that covered his chest, deftly tugging the various buckles undone. "Three weeks, Aisling," the Breton thief murmurs into her ear as he breathes in the the blend of snowberries and nightshade, oddly stronger this time though the man wasn't complaining. "Three weeks you were gone. Three weeks and no word as to where you were or if you were even _alive_. I don't know if I should be angry at what you did, or relieved that it's not just in my dreams that I'm holding you again."

"Del..."

"No. You don't get to talk. Not now. You had your chance before you left as you did. Now you listen."

An audible click is heard as Aisling's mouth snaps shut. For as long as she's known the Guild's Sneak Trainer, never once had Delvin spoken to her as harshly as he did now. But while normally she wouldn't bat an eye at it, in her current condition on the other hand...

"I told you before you went off gallivanting to do Gods only know what Ulfric needed you of all people to do that you need to open your mouth when something isn't right. Running away from the problem isn't going to solve the issue. What do I have to do to make it sink in for you, Aisling? I...I can't keep worrying that the next time you vanish it will be for good- it's just too much to handle." His hand grabs at her chin and forces the younger woman's attention back, molten gold eyes staring directly into her caesious ones. "I don't care if the jobs you take bring you to the far reaches of Tamriel, or to just up to Shor's Stone- I'm going with you."

"I don't need a babysitter Delvin," the redhead goes petulantly. "Besides, you haven't left the Guild to go on a job in how long? I would be greatly surprised if you even knew how to get to Morthal, let alone Shor's Stone. When was the last time you broke into someone's house or picked a mark's pocket?"

A toothy grin breaks out on the face of the man above her. "It has been awhile, I will admit, but I think I managed this well enough, don't you think?"

So distracted was Aisling by the dark, lust laden voice of the Breton that she didn't process his words for a few minutes. Finally the woman asks "What?" Then she feels it- a warm yet hardened palm laying against her thigh...underneath the linen of her pants. _How in the name of Nocturnal- Was I that oblivious to what he was doing?_ The fingers tap at her hot flesh then move forward, causing her to wriggle under the torment as the digits slip in between her legs. "Del..."

"Promise me Aisling," he growls lowly into the Nord's ear, hearing her beg underneath him as he tried to coax what he wanted from her. Delvin nips at the earlobe, causing the younger thief to arch up into his armor. "Say it, or is there something else you're questioning? Perhaps you doubt me- or my intentions?"

"When the only person I've even heard of you opening pursuing is Vex... well, you can see why I'd question anything you claim to feel towards me-"

"The pockets of my armor."

"What of them?"

"Open them," the older thief goes simply. "You wanted the chest piece off, so why not see for yourself how I really feel at the same time. If my words aren't enough..."

Auburn colored eyebrows furrow at the odd request- while some members of the Guild were more open than others with their personal affairs, others preferred to keep their private lives just that- Delvin being one of them. It was one of the reasons Aisling had felt comfortable leaving him with a key to Honeyside- she knew he'd respect her privacy just as she did his. "Are... are you sure?"

He reaches up with his free hand and cups the Nord's cheek gently. "Ask me that after."

"Alright." Shaking fingers, ones that were normally sure of themselves when it came to picking locks or lifting items from pockets and homes, start moving downwards from the Breton's collar, slowly releasing the buckles that held either the chest piece or pockets closed. From each holding spot the Nord pulls the same item and carefully set beside her- the glow from the fireplace making the gold and turquoise sparkle slightly. After placing the last amulet on top of the pile, Aisling honestly didn't know what to say.

Before her brain decides on something coherent, Delvin beat her to it, pulling his other hand free and sliding the armor off his back. "You missed one." Seeing confusion appear in the woman's sapphire orbs, he removes the black tunic he wore under his chest piece, revealing the piece hanging around his neck. He watches her face, taking note of the small changes- a hint of color gracing his Guild Master's face, her eyes widening just a touch. "Gods, say something Aisling," the Trainer whispers when all he gets from her is silence.

Her gaze moves from the piece of jewelry to peer at Delvin's face, the worry he was feeling evident across his features. The woman swallows, trying to swallow her own nervousness as she goes "An Amulet of Mara? You're not married? Surprising."

A ghost of a smile appears on Mallory's face in relief at Aisling's words. "Interested in me, are you?" he asks the thief beneath him, brushing a rogue piece of auburn hair behind her ear.

"I do believe I am," she tells him, finally meeting his molten gold stare with her own icy one. A moment of doubt causes Aisling to look away towards the fire as she wonders aloud "Are...are you interested in me?"

A calloused hand lightly takes a hold of her chin and moves it so that she's looking at the Breton once again. "Some part of me has always wanted you, Aisling, I just never knew how much... It just took nearly losing you the first time to realize how I truly felt and the second time to realize that I couldn't spend the rest of my life without you... I'll follow you all over Tamriel and into the depths of Oblivion itself if you'll have me- even into the afterlife in the Evergloam if Nocturnal allows it... or doesn't, for." that matter."

"I don't think I mind that at all Del." She reaches up, running her fingers over Delvin's gray flecked brows. And as their lips met once more, for the first time in a long while, everything was right in their world.

* * *

A/N: I am **so** sorry about the lack of updates! Real Life was just like NOPE, plus I had a rather bad case of writer's block, which I'm attempting to still get over. And I'm in the process of getting the parts needed to build a better PC...well, anything is better than what I'm working on. The damned thing is ready for retirement.

As of right now, I'm thinking this might have... two or three more chapters in it. Maybe. There could be a sequel, depending on where the spin off for this goes (if and when I can get it off the ground, I'm having a hard time of figuring where I want it to go). Time will tell. I did enjoy writing this, enjoyed writing Delvin too. So I'm hoping I get another idea for our favorite baldheaded Breton. My other works aren't being ignored, my muses are just not being forthcoming with inspiration- I need to bribe them more.

Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

It isn't almost until a month later that the two thieves start to wonder if it was time to actually step foot outside of the room they temporarily called home. As much as Del or Aisling tried to come up with a reason to leave, something always seemed to distract them from that train of thought- a nuzzle here, a caress there, even a nip or two on skin made thinking about anything else other than their partner rather difficult.

"Tell me something, Del... Who made this?" Cobalt eyes peer up at the man from beneath tousled locks of fire, then down at the Amulet of Mara currently worn around her neck- the same one the Breton had worn the day he arrived. "I know this isn't one Maramal normally hands out to those seeking to get married."

Calloused fingers gently brush the strands of hair from Aisling's face, then tuck her back up against his bare chest. "I'm not surprised you noticed that. No, that particular amulet was custom made for me- with the priest's blessings, of course. The price was hefty, but well worth it." At the look of dismay on the Nord's face, Delvin just chuckles. "Before you complain about not being worth it, trust me Aisling, you are more than worth it. And I'm not even the one shouldering the burden, the Guild is."

"Excuse me?" A puzzled look crosses the younger woman's face as she asks him "You didn't take it from the Vault did you?"

"I'm not Mercer, love. I certainly have more than enough coin stashed away and even if I didn't, I wouldn't steal from the Guild for anything. What I mean is, in exchange for their services, Vex and I can no longer hand out jobs that affect his business for at least two years, along with the threat that if I hurt you, I would have more than just the Guild or the Brotherhood to worry about. So yes, the Guild is paying for it, just not in the way you originally thought."

"Well, then I know it wasn't your brother that made this... But for only two years? If I could make something that seems so delicate and yet so strong... This isn't a Gray-Mane piece, is it?"

A dry set of lips covering her own silences any further protest. "Shh. Do not worry about who made it, but know that you understood some of the message I was trying to impart with this. The piece seems like it is fragile, but can withstand great pressures- much like you, and before you start arguing against it, listen. When you came into the Guild looking for Esbern, most of us didn't think you'd make it out of the Ratway Warrens unscathed let alone alive. We were all rather surprised when you popped into the Flagon with the mage in tow just as you went down there- it was if you just ghosted your way through the Thalmor searchers. Chances are, that's what had Brynjolf wanting to get you to join the Guild."

Before Delvin could continue, there was a soft rapping on the door. "Maybe if we ignore it, whoever is on the other side will go away?" He grumbles darkly, burying his nose into the fiery locks of Aisling's hair.

"You don't know the Greybeards long enough." A soft chuckle escapes the younger woman as she plants a kiss on his chin. "They won't come in, but will either wait on the other side until someone opens the door or keep knocking incessantly. It all depends on how important the message is." As if responding to the Guild Master's comment, another knock is heard, just a little louder. "See what I mean?"

The ginger haired Nord tries to wriggle her way to freedom from the man's arms, but the Breton was having none of it. "Stay put. I'll see who it is." _And send them away. Far, far away._

After unwillingly releasing Aisling and rising from the bed, Delvin looks around the now rather disorganized room, trying to find where in the name of Oblivion his pants were. "Aisling..."

"Try on top of the bookcase next to the desk," her voice floats up from the bed behind him. "If it's not there... well, I'm sure we'll find them somewhere whenever we decide to leave back for home. By the way, do you happen to know if anyone has purchased Riftweald yet?"

An eyebrow arches slightly as the male thief finds his trousers exactly where his Guild Master said they'd be. "Mercer's place? Not that I know of- last I heard it reverted back into the possession of the Black-Briars. Why?" he asks as he pulls the article of clothing, glancing at her over his shoulder.

"I'm sure there's plenty of things in that home worth selling. Besides," the rather naked Nord goes, looking at Delvin like he was a piece of meat she wanted to devour. "I wouldn't mind owning the place, mainly due to the entrance into the Ratway Vaults."

"What's wrong with Honeyside?"

"Nothing. It's just really only large enough for two people, maybe three if Iona is around." A wistful look flickers across Aisling's face, vanishing in an instant.

 _If that's what she wants, who am I to deny her anything, especially something like that.. I'm sure I can...convince... Maven to part with it permanently._ "I'll make the inquiries on it if you want. I can't promise anything though- you know how Maven can get," he tells her as he makes his way over to the door. Briefly, the Breton considers putting a shirt on but at yet another knock, decides against it. _Let the impatient idiot on the other side see just what he's interrupting._ Opening the door, Delvin leans against the frame, the torches and sunlight accenting a number of scratches and bruises that were across his arms and torso. "Master Arngeir. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"The head of our order has decided that he will speak with you and the Dragonborn now."

"Oh really?" An incredulous look appears on the younger man's face as he bites out "And what if _we're_ not ready to speak with him, hmm?"

Aisling moves next to him, clad in just the other thief's shirt. "Del... please. The sooner we meet with Paarthurnax, the sooner we can go home. We've both been away far too long." She leans over and buries her head into the side of his neck and murmurs to him "Besides, we'll have a few stops to make before we head to Riften."

"Oh is that so? And how many stops is 'a few'?"

The woman curving up against him just hums thoughtfully, not caring that the Greybeard was still waiting for a response. "Oh, at least eight. A few more if there's time."

"For you, I'll make the time," he whispers into ruby hair, then presses a kiss onto her head. Glancing over at the older man, Delvin goes "When does he want to see us?"

"As soon as possible," Arngeir goes pointedly, his tone stressing the need for haste.

 _Nocturnal and Talos help me with the both of them._ "Enough, the both of you. Love, don't bait the man who can kill you with a word. Master Arngeir, I will bring Delvin up to the Throat of the World on my own. If I can make the first trip up there alone, surely I can do it on my... fourteenth or fifteenth climb and take someone along with me?" Before the Greybeard could say anything, Aisling continues with "Now, as you can see, Del and I can not climb the rest of the mountain dressed like this. So if you'll excuse us, we'll change and pack our things so we can leave High Hrothgar as soon as we're able. Truth be told, the sooner the better, as I am in no mood right now for _yet another_ lecture about my chosen associates." With that, the clearly annoyed Nord shuts the door in her elder's face before he can get a word in edgewise.

"How much time do you think we have before we really need to climb more of this blasted mountain," Delvin asks, wrapping an arm around his woman's cloth covered torso.

Storm colored eyes glance over her shoulder, the irises sparkling slightly at the man's question. "Paarthurnax is rather patient, especially when it comes to me. Even if that wasn't the case, the old man owes me some favors a few times over. Why do you ask?"

"Because," the Sneak Trainer tells her as he spins the Nord and presses her up against the ornate door, "I want to make sure we make use of this room while we still have it. Starting with right here up against the door, then the bookcase. Then who knows?" And, as their two mouths came together once more, Aisling made a mental note to make sure Delvin understood that, when they returned to Riften, the Guild and business came first... eventually.

 _Here's hoping I don't have a body to bury once Del realizes Paarthurnax isn't like the rest of the Greybeards..._

* * *

A/N: So, a thing- it's not much but... Seems my mind has a bit more for this than I intended, but I need to see if I can get it to make sense. I was going to have this be a bit longer, including the scene after ol' Del realizes just who the head of the Greybeards is, but the brain said no.

So, where I plan to bring this story from here. Next chapters will take place after Aisling and Delvin leave High Hrothgar. Seems our Dragonborn wants her future husband to see just why it's a bad idea to cross her, as well as to know everything that happened prior to her signing up with the Guild... which includes her past with the Civil War and its leader- the Jarl turned High King, Ulfric Stormcloak. How will our Breton thief handle some of this new information? Does Ulfric find out about his Stormblade's impending nuptials? Will there be cheese at the wedding? To the last one, not enough to make Uncle Sheo feel the need to crash the after party. To the others, keep reading to find out!

Also, there's another story I'm working on that's called With Friends Like These. It will be a FDB/Ulfric story (I'm sorry. It just happened that way), but they're really not going to be the main part of the story- at least, that's the current hope. I look forward to getting that up on here soon enough. As well as the other stories, Dragonborn and the Thief should be getting an update soon, First Time For Everything continues to be problematic, as does Oblivion Hath No Fury. But I'll get 'em updated, come hell or high water. As for the others... I'm trying. I really am.

Oh well. Onward and upward!


	10. Chapter 10

"I still can't believe you never told me that the leader of the Greybeards is a bloody _dragon_ , Aisling! What was his name again? Party Snacks?"

" _Paarthurnax_ wasn't going to eat you, Delvin... well, let me rephrase that. He wasn't going to eat you unless he caught you in a rather blatant lie or believed that you did not have my interests at heart- bit overprotective like that, the old man is. But there's a reason I don't go talking about that openly."

A bald head shakes in veiled amusement as the pair continue to ride away from Ivarstead in the direction of Helgen and the Whiterun Border. "You mean besides the fact nearly all of Skyrim would be either in a panic or demanding you do your duty as the Dragonborn?"

"Hardly. Prior to becoming the protectors of the Emperor- before the creation of the Penitus Oculatus, of course- the Blades started out as dragon hunters. After the end of the Septim bloodline with the assassination of Uriel VII, then the sacrifice of his son Martin to defeat Mehrunes Dagon- therefore, no Dragonborn to serve- they had returned up to Cloud Ruler Temple. They were at the receiving end of the Thalmor's ire because, unlike their successors who were bound by Imperial policy and bureaucracy, the Blades were still able to operate freely. When the Great War started, all of the Blades that were in the Aldmeri Dominion were slaughtered, their heads sent back to the Emperor, followed by the Thalmor razing Cloud Ruler Temple to the ground. When the White-Gold Concordat was signed, one of the requirements that gets overlooked was that the order had to disband- sending all of the remaining members into hiding.

"You already know how I ended up interacting with the Blades through Delphine, but I never finished the story... I was on the receiving end of the supposed acting grandmaster's ire because I refused to kill Paarthurnax on her command. In order to get her to stop hassling me, I brought her bones and scales from an Ancient Dragon, said that they belonged to the old man, and told her that I was done with her little crusade. If she wanted dragons killed, then the blasted woman can get off her high horse and do it herself- I dealt with the larger threats of Alduin and Miraak, and handled the Civil War between the Empire and the Stormcloaks, not to mention cleaning up the mess Elisif threw the province back into. I'm tired of saving the world, Del- I need to take care of me and mine now. Someone else has to take over."

"So no more running off to shadows know where without letting us know? That will be the day, Aisling."

The blonde just smirks at him over her shoulder for a moment, then goes "Unfortunately for me, there's this domineering asshole who has decided that he's going to go _everywhere_ with me, even if it's just a run up to Shor's Stone to mine some more ebony- and that's not a day's ride!"

Before Delvin could come up with some quick retort, he watches as the Nord gently tugs on the reins, bringing her mount to a stop. Quickly halting his own, the older man quietly asks "What is it?"

"This is... was... Helgen. This is where everything started- the 17th day of Last Seed, 4E 201... No matter how hard I try, I will never forget that day." A glove covered hand points towards a misshapen box of sorts as she elaborates "There. That's where I had my first encounter with Alduin- the afternoon the Empire didn't care I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and sent me to be executed with Ulfric's men."

"Explains a lot... but it doesn't explain how you ended up sidin' with the Stormcloaks durin' the war, or why, after you came home, you turned down any job in Eastmarch for the most part." Minutes pass and Delvin wonders if he stepped over a line when the woman beside him says nothing. Finally, she responds.

"I swear Delvin that I will tell you, just not now- when we get to Windhelm. There's things a very small circle of people know- they all happened before I joined up with the Guild, so even someone like you would have had a hard time trying finding information."

"If you don't want to tell me..."

Aisling shakes her head in the negative. "No. You of all people deserve to know. It will just be easier to show you, and I can only do that in Windhelm. But that doesn't mean I can't tell you of things as we come across their relevant places." She pauses, her eyes widening slightly as the woman realizes the ramifications of not only the offer, but the fact that there was a chance that the Breton beside her might not want to hear of her past. "That is, if you want to hear them, that is. It might not be something you'd be interested, and I completely understand if that is the case-"

"Shh," Delvin goes, reaching over and taking her hand in his. As he presses his lips against the pulse point, the older thief adds "I'll listen to anything and everything you want to tell me. Whatever any of us in the Guild knows about you is either from rumors, bards who may or may not be embellishing, and a few secondhand accounts."

"People don't know things for a good reason, Mallory, but..." A soft sigh escapes the Nord, then she says "Just don't hold anything against me, nor can you repeat what I tell you- I'm putting a lot at risk with some of the subjects I'll end up broaching."

"Never, and you have my word I'll take everything to the afterlife, Aisling."

She nods, and as the pair continues on their way through Helgen, starts by telling him of when she first woke up in the cart, the confusion she felt at not knowing where she was and how she got there. His Guild Master speaks of the men in bonds with her: Lokir- the Nord horse thief from Rorikstead shot dead by Imperials trying to escape; Ralof- the young idealistic Stormcloak soldier from Riverwood who helped her escape from the inferno that was Helgen; and lastly, Ulfric Stormcloak, the Jarl of Windhelm turned rebellion leader who was bound, gagged, and on his way to his execution.

More than just a hint of animosity leaks into Aisling's voice as she makes mention of Elenwen, the Altmer First Emissary and the Ambassador of the Thalmor in Skyrim- or, as she quotes the young man from Riverwood, the _'Thalmor bitch'_ , then General Tullius, the Empire's Provincial Governor of Skyrim, who was only doing his job... though that didn't stop her from killing him at the end of the Civil War.

"Do you regret doing that?"

"No, not really- not anymore, anyways. It has been a bit over two years since it happened, so I was able to come to terms with it… He was the commanding officer of the Empire's soldiers here in Skyrim. I swore an oath to the Stormcloaks, and you know better than anyone else I'm a person of my word. If he had lived, the chances of my surviving til I reached 40 winters would have become rather slim after that. And imagine where the Guild would be now if that had happened, hmm?"

Her story continues on as they travel on their way to their first stop, which Aisling told him would be Breezehome in Whiterun's capital. Delvin's listened attentively as she speaks of Alduin attacking just as she was about to lose her head, choosing to follow Ralof instead of the Imperial soldier Hadvar through the tunnels and caves out of the village now in ruins and their reaching Riverwood, where his sister and brother-in-law ran the mill. Gerdur asking to tell the Jarl of Whiterun that the defenseless town needed guards since Alduin was up in the mountains somewhere- not that any of them would be able to permanently deal with the World Eater. Farengar, the more than _slightly_ condescending court wizard for Balgruuf the Greater, sending her to Bleak Falls Barrow to find something he called a Dragonstone.

Riverwood comes and goes, Delvin hearing a Bosmer griping about another man named Sven, Ailsing deciding against paying a visit to the mill or inn- too many questions that she's in no mood to answer, she honestly tells him. As much as he wanted to know, the Breton doesn't press knowing the woman would explain in her own time. The Nord continues with her story in Whiterun Hold, talking of the undead walking in the barrow, the Dunmer who stole a strange golden claw from a shop in the village, the strange stone wall with even stranger writing that she didn't understand and yet did at the same time, and briefly mentioning her first interactions with the Daedric Princes when, after touching what she thought was a rather large multi-faceted gem, Meridia demands that the young adventurer cleanse her desecrated temple.

"How many Daedra did you swear oaths to?"

"And kept? Three- Mephala, Hermaeus Mora and, of course, Nocturnal. Some, such as Sanguine and Sheogorath, I certainly helped but I couldn't and wouldn't swear any allegiances whatsoever to them. Most of them I avoided for rather sane reasons if one thinks on it- I don't think you see me sticking human flesh in my mouth, do you?"

"Well-"

" **SHUT UP MALLORY!"** The ginger yells out, her face nearly matching the color of her hair. She huffs as her intended starts laughing like an idiot in his saddle. "See if you get to sleep in the bed tonight old man... I'm sure that there's a cell up in Dragonsreach with your name on it. Or I could call in a favor with my friend Heimskr and see if you can spend the night with him- you'll learn all you ever could want to learn about Talos that way."

"Please don't Aisling I beg you." Delvin knew exactly who his Guild Master was talking about- the over-zealous Nord priest of Whiterun who could be seen giving his sermons before the statue of Talos for hours upon hours a day- the preacher was the other reason why many of the Guild tended to not linger in the Hold controlled by Vignar Gray-Mane, or take jobs there at all. While he'd like to think that the Nord thief was only teasing with him about the possible punishment, he also knew that the threat of such an action was very much possible.

"Oh _believe me_ , you certainly will be begging later, loud enough that Vignar will hear you up in the Cloud District and then Olfrid will be sure to pass the word onto Brynjolf that a woman had you cowering in fear." If it wasn't for the slight upturn of her mouth, the Breton certainly would have believed she was completely serious. _Or maybe is was, and is trying to lull me into a false sense of security._

The two ride in silence the rest of the way to their destination, leaving their horses with Skulvar Sable-Hilt. Knowing that she had no need to show him around Whiterun- there was even a very good chance the Sneak Trainer knew the city better than she did- Aisling just brings Delvin straight to Breezehome. "It's not much," she says to him as the door silently shuts behind them, "But it's a relatively safe place. I've been considering turning most of the homes I have into safe spots for the Guild, that way they're not pulling a Vipir- you'll get to see them before we head back home."

 _Home._ It was a rather strange concept for Delvin, the thought of calling a place home. Honorhall Orphanage was no home, it was its' own sphere of Oblivion on Nirn. And while the Cistern was great- in it's own dark, dingy sort of way he supposed- there was little to no privacy, but... Well, he wasn't young anymore, and age didn't always just bring wisdom. It also had the habit of bringing slower reaction times which ended up meaning a smaller chance of coming back from a job. Originally the thief had no problem with the thought of doing work for the Guild until he died of old age, but now with Aisling knowing how he felt and vice versa... Maybe it was time for him to set back and let the younger generation handle the plundering of Tamriel. _But can I convince Aisling to step away with me?_ He had no idea.

Before he could open his mouth, Delvin's topaz eyes darken, watching hips covered in black leather sway back and forth as Aisling walks up the stairs to the second floor. She pauses on the landing and, glancing over her shoulder, calls down "Coming?" The Nord Guild Master didn't have to ask twice as he bounded up the steps behind her.

 _Definitely a question for a later date._

* * *

A/N: Oh hi there. Yes, still alive. Yes, still trying to write. Between training for me new job and actually starting said job I've not had much time to get writing in- I think I was sitting on this for a good month trying to get it done, as well as crawling slowly with the others. Eventually I just went 'Pick one and get a chapter done'. So I did!

We're going to be skipping the other Holds and Solstheim and going straight to Windhelm- if I write for all of them the story would never end and the City of Kings is right now the only location that matters for the plot of the story. If I _do_ write little shorts for this (which I probably will if the muses are feeling kind), it probably will be about Solstheim, mainly for the interaction of the Mallory boys. There will be a short little thing after this finishes, and... fortunately or unfortunately depending on how you look at it... there will be a sequel to this. The side story I alluded to back when Aisling gave the High King a rude awakening will also happen...eventually. I swear. Really. It will happen... when I learn better time management. And not burn myself out.

So believe me, the updates will flow, the writer must awaken. I must not not write, not writing is the mind killer...something something...


	11. Chapter 11

And so their travels went- Aisling telling her stories of the adventures she had in each hold, such as of how exactly the wayward Second of the Thieves Guild convinced her to join their dubiously honorable ranks, Delvin telling of his own past when the spirit moved him. There were some things he wasn't comfortable letting her know just yet- like the incident that led him to hiding out with the Brotherhood- and the Breton knew she could tell, but his Guild Master didn't pry which he appreciated. It wasn't that the trainer was ashamed of his past, he just didn't know how the Nord would react to it. They even spent an extra day and night at Raven Rock, mainly to get the Mallory brothers a chance to reconnect in person, and not just talk through letters. Eventually though the two thieves had to make their way back to the mainland, and, after saying farewell to Glover, boarded the _Northern Maiden_.

Once reaching Windhelm, the auburn haired woman pulls her hood up, the black leather casting shadows across pale skin. Aisling did not want to take any chances walking the stone streets of the snowy city- knowing the luck she had in this place, a soldier would recognize her and send word to Ulfric that his elusive Stormblade was finally seen in his capital.. She could feel the questioning gaze laced with concern drilling into her back as her Breton follows slightly behind. Had this been anywhere else, the Nord would have stopped and explained everything, but not here, never in the open.

Through the city the pair walk, past the homes of the deceased Calixto and the Guild's fence Niranye. Ignoring the call of the warmth from Candlehearth Hall. Instead of cutting up and passing through the graveyard alongside the Hall of the Dead, the woman brings him through the marketplace and the far end of the cemetery to the southwestern entrance to the Valunstrad. Gray eyes glance quickly at the home owned by Clan Shatter-Shield, then at the one owned by busybody Viola Giordano. It would be her luck if one of the residents of those houses came out and saw her- the former would once again invite her over, still thankful for Ailsing giving justice to their murdered daughter; the latter would stop at nothing to find out where the ginger Nord was hiding, how long she was planning on staying in Windhelm, who the mystery man with her was, and had she visited the Palace yet. Valid questions, but there was a snow drift's chance in Oblivion that she'd tell that woman _anything_.

Satisfied that no one was around, she continues leading the bald man further up the street and around the stone wall that surrounded her home. "You should feel honored, Del," Aisling murmurs quietly as she unlocks the door to Hjerim.

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Because it has been a very long time," the redhead says, pushing the entrance open and allowing him to go inside first. She could guess the question before he could even voice what was on his mind. "It has been a very long time since I had someone here for something other than planning battles or tracking the Thalmor."

"And is the last person you had here that way the reason you don't like running jobs here anymore?" Delvin didn't need an answer as Aisling's behavior- silent and otherwise- said more than most people realized. Nocturnal knows it took him long enough to figure out most of her tells, but his Guild Master still found ways to surprise him. When he hears the heavy door shut behind him, the Breton adds "What did he do, Aisling?"

Here the redhead sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. _I was ready to tell him everything. Now that the moment is finally here after showing Delvin the rest of my past, why do I all of a sudden have cold feet?_

 **Because you actually care about his reaction to hearing of the point of our life when we were the most broken, how, in comparison to this, Mercer's betrayal was nothing put a parchment cut.**

 _He wouldn't leave me- he promised!_

 **You thought the same thing about the Stormcloak and look where that got us.**

Ignoring her conscience, the woman gestures to the seats in front of the roaring fireplace. "Sit down, Del. This conversation might need a drink or six."

Delvin heads to the chairs in question, moving the second one next to his without a thought. Partially it was to ease her mind, but it was also to calm the fear gnawing at his heart that the woman would run again. _On second thought..._ When she comes and sets a rather dusty bottle on the table next to his chair, the quick thinking thief grabs onto Aisling's arm and tugs her into his lap. "No. Right here."

"Shadows take you, Mallory, there's a perfectly good chair-" The fire kissed Nord starts to protest, only to stop when she feels her lover's arms tighten just a touch around her waist. "Fine, but do _not_ blame me when you want to hear no more..."

Leaning back into Delvin's embrace, she starts to fill in the gaps of the story told as they traveled to the other Holds, of her going to both Solitude and Windhelm to convince Tullius and Ulfric to come to High Hrothgar and negotiate a temporary cease to the war until Alduin was dealt with. As soon as word reached both sides that the World-Eater no longer lived, the Imperials and Stormcloaks were battling once more. While the woman attempted to settle down for a quiet life, Aisling admitted that being idle was not a concept that sat well with her.

She talks of her feet eventually bringing her back to Windhelm, where not only did the words of the civil war being at a stalemate once more, but there was a killer running loose in the city- if that wasn't going to get her blood singing, Aisling did not know what would.

"Maybe you should have come straight to the Rift-"

Aisling snorts, interrupting the rest of his sentence with "Don't get me wrong, certainly the events with Karliah and Mercer trying to pin everything on her made things interesting, but you know as well as I that the jobs that get handed out get a bit repetitive after awhile." She sighs, rubbing at her forehead thoughtfully. "No, regardless of what I chose to do, my path would have always led to Eastmarch and her Jarl. Unfortunately, while I hope that I can close the book on that part of my life for good, I know that is not the case for his life is bound to mine. The Gods and Princes are both the same in that they certainly like to see me dance and try to keep up with their discordant tunes."

The redhead shivers slightly as she feels one of his hands slip under her chest piece as Delvin asks her what happened after she arrived in the city. "Figured out who was behind the murders, so that made the city safe- well, as safe as it could be with a stalemated civil war going on and stress from the racial tensions. I was leaving the palace after reporting my findings to the Steward, Jorleif, when..."

* * *

"Wait."

A slight frown crosses the young Nord woman's face as a gravelly voice calls out from behind her.

"Come back for a moment."

 _Shadows take this person from keeping me from leaving. I'm tired!_ Aisling turns around, trying to see who exactly had the _gall_ to order her around. The voice was somewhat familiar, but for whatever reason, the Dragonborn could not place it. Her search was not in vain though, taking note that the stone throne- originally unoccupied- now held the figure of a reclining male, his features somewhat hidden by light shadows. As she makes her way back, the face becomes clearer and the finally connects the voice she heard now with the memories it coaxed forth in her mind.

"We've met before."

The woman tilts her head in agreement. "Twice. The first time was on a lovely cart ride to Helgen where I was due to be executed for being at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Ah yes, the Nord woman they had demeaned by knocking her out and then dressing her in rags. I had heard from one of the soldiers that you helped him escape from the caverns." The Jarl of Windhelm stares at the redhead intently. "You spoke of a second time, but I cannot place it."

Aisling snorts softly as she brushes a long strand of hair from her line of vision. "You wouldn't have, as I had a full helm on at the time. Didn't really need anyone knowing who I was at the peace council at High Hrothgar. I handed Markarth to you on a silver platter."

Green eyes blink slowly as Ulfric says nothing for a few moments. Finally, just as the ginger is about to lose what restraint she has on her temper, he lets out a chuckle and goes "The Dragonborn it seems has a sense of humor. Shame you weren't up at High Hrothgar when I was on the path to becoming a Greybeard. Might have made my time up there a bit more palpable."

"All it would have taken was a woman studying the Way of the Voice to keep you from running to fight the Thalmor? I will have to let Master Arngeir know for future reference." The younger woman adjusts the strap on her knapsack and adds "If that is all?"

"Do you have somewhere to be?"

"Always. But just like everyone else, I need time to rest myself-"

The man's lips seem to curl slightly, but Aisling blames what she sees as illusions by flickering lights manipulating shadow. "Are you bored, Dragonborn?"

"What makes you ask that?" Speculative eyes glance at the Steward, then over to a gaping bearded Nord who seemed to think that his Jarl had lost his mind, and back to the man in question. "I might appreciate quietness once in awhile instead of running around taking care of others who choose not to do it for themselves."

A snort is heard from the throne, followed by "You fought the World-Eater and returned from Sovngarde victorious. We've heard rumors of what you accomplished in Solstheim. Then no one hears anything of the Dragonborn for months, just random sightings in various places and tending to the needs of strangers. Now here you are solving a murder spree that's plagued my guard for months. So in answer to your question, yes, I believe civilian life is not agreeing with you. Settling down and being lazy is not in your nature. And do you know how I know that?" Dark emeralds stare unwaveringly at the woman as the Jarl of Windhelm leans forward just a touch as he answers his own question. "Because you're _exactly like me_."

He had her, and they both knew it. Aisling had heard from Master Arngeir that Ulfric Stormcloak, having caught wind of the war between the Empire and the Thalmor, was caught up in it, forgoing his training with the Greybeards to go fight to defend his home and ending up captured in the process. And with no dragon nor priest causing chaos, she was finding the random bandit contract and giant slaying lacking in challenge. "And what exactly could you give me as an enticement to stay here in Windhelm for a time, Jarl Ulfric? Money, power? I have plenty of that."

The broad armored male slowly rises from the stone throne and makes his way down the stairs, his eyes still never leaving Aisling's face. Ulfric, holding an arm out towards the woman in offering, goes "Let's see what we can offer the Dragonborn, shall we?"

* * *

"And that's how I got involved in the Civil War- the promise to alleviate my boredom, which he upheld to the last."

"When did you and the Stormcloak become..."

The redhead puts the now empty bottle on the table with a sigh. "When did we start fucking? It was about two months after the battle of Whiterun- everywhere from that hold downward was in constant downpour and made fighting rather difficult, especially trying to get the siege engines where they needed to be with all the mud. We were sparring, one thing led to another and..."

"I don't need to hear anymore of that- just the thought of another man touching you is unsettling me. The fact I'm in said man's own Hold would not stop me from giving the Stormcloak a piece of my mind. Did it end poorly? Is that why you try to not come back here?" Delvin watches as the young woman's face falls somewhat, her features hiding behind loose strands of fire. "What am I missing, Aisling?"

"Death," she whispers, tears that she swore not to shed falling freely down her face. "All he had to do was say no... But a crown meant more to him than anyone or anything. He couldn't fathom winning everything, only to have it ripped away from him by the Moot if he didn't agree to their choice of bride for him. We believed he would do what was right for his people... we learned that lesson and its' harsh truth too late..."

Delvin tightens his arms around the Nord woman's waist, unable to come up with any words that might give her solace. _Maybe it doesn't need to be said_. He listens as her sobs slowly give way to sniffles, then to a random hiccup, and then silence, all the while never releasing his hold. "You know what... Never mind. We don't have to talk about-"

"No. We do. If you're serious about this," here Aisling pulls at the amulet around her neck, "about spending the rest of your life with me, you need to know everything. I would rather you know now and be able to walk away, then learn later and hate being chained to me for the rest of our lives." She stands up, tugging the Breton along behind her. "Come on. I was originally going to wait until after dinner, but with our rather bad luck at not getting interrupted..."

The older thief chuckles as he stands, "I don't think there's been a time you've left me unsatisfied, Aisling. Well... there was that one time in Honeyside..."

"You're about to go walking down a dangerous road, Mallory-" she goes as the two make their way out of Hjerim.

"I only meant that I was left wanting, love. That's all."

The pair walk in silence away from the home, Delvin's arm wrapped snugly around Aisling's waist. It seemed oddly domestic and yet he took comfort in this fact, as well as it was also odd being able to just stroll through the streets of a city and not have half the guard chasing after him. Their path leads them to the Halls of the Dead, the Nord woman pausing once inside to greet Helgrid, who tells her that someone is currently already paying their respects.

The Guild Master blanches, pressing up against her companion's side for comfort. "Is it..."

"No child," the older woman goes, giving her a sad yet comforting smile. "The General has come down from the Palace. He had gotten wind that you were passing through and had hoped to see you before you pulled your vanishing act again."

As he gets led away from the Priestess, the Breton whispers "Is this General going to be a problem?"

"I'd like to think not. Galmar..." A pause, then "Galmar was... is a good man. Loyal to a fault."

"But?"

"His being here could mean one of two things. Either Ulfric knows I'm here in Windhelm and is demanding my presence-"

"If Ulfric knew you were here, Stormblade, you would never have made it past the gates. You'd have been brought straight to the Palace. The fact you were not should answer whether or not the High King knows of your being here."

Gray and brown orbs land on a burly, heavy armored Nord male who was placing a small blue bloom in front of a small, but well cared for burial urn. "I was surprised when one of the guards told me they saw you and an unknown male making your way to Hjerim- the same unknown man that various officers have seen you with across Skyrim and down from High Hrothgar. If it wasn't for the fact that I see the reports first..." Galmar shakes his bearded head at Aisling, then stares at Delvin as he growls out, "What's your name, Breton?"

A squeezing on his arm tells the younger man not to pick a fight with the soldier. "Delvin Mallory," he bites out while glancing over at the woman beside him, "I'm from the Rift."

"Doesn't matter where you're from. What I want to know is why some thief thinks he's good enough for _our_ Stormblade."

"That's _enough_ , Galmar-" the redhead tries to stop this conversation before it has a chance to become something more, only to find her intended covering her mouth with his hand.

"You didn't want to rely on people to help you with your problems, love. Let me handle mine." Delvin brushes his lips against Aisling's forehead, only pulling back when he feels her acquiesce. "Do I think I am worthy of her love and affections? The only two people I think less deserving than I are our colleague Brynjolf and your High King, but the reasons for both are very different- my brother simply because he is a flirt of the worst kind and cannot keep himself faithful to one woman for long. And as for the Stormcloak... well, are you telling me I should respect a man who gives up the woman he supposedly loves to be bound to the figurehead he fought against, all for a crown, title and chair?"

The Nord woman's hand slaps quickly over her lover's mouth before he could continue. "This is not the time _nor_ the place for this. If you two can not behave, you both can leave while I try to explain to Freydis why my future husband and commanding officer cannot get along!"

"Freydis?"

"You haven't told him?"

Hematite eyes glance up to the stone ceiling as if asking for patience. "That's why he's here, Galmar. Delvin asked me to marry him and I said yes- I brought him to this place so that he would know the full story before tying himself to me for the rest of his life. Instead, I have to watch the two of you squabble like children."

"I'm...sorry, Stormblade." The older man looked thoroughly cowed by her statement, and it was obvious apologies were not easy for the bear-like man. "After everything you went through with Ulfric, some of us were concerned- and rightly so. We didn't want to see you look like you did two years ago. But… if you're willing to trust him with this, he has my blessing. Know this, Breton," blue eyes move from Aisling to Delvin rather quickly, "If any of us even hear the slightest rumor that you have done something foolish, you will have to get out of the province before you can stop looking over your shoulder. If you're lucky enough to make it, that is."

Mallory glances over at the woman beside him and asks "Just how many friends of yours are going to threaten me if I even look at you wrong?"

"You'd be surprised at how short and yet how lengthy that list is, Del." A wry smile graces her face, then Aisling becomes serious once more. Carefully picking up the small burial urn, her gaze shifts over to Delvin and says quietly "This was...is… Freydis. My daughter. Ulfric's daughter."

The story comes haltingly as she sets the vessel down, how from that fateful day in Eastmarch up until the Moot she and Ulfric had been rather inseparable, how the meeting of the Jarls demanding that he wed Elisif to show to the rest of Nirn that the once warring province was now unified. She tells Delvin, with some help from the Housecarl, of Ulfric bowing to the wishes of those he had put in those seats of power, both Nords admitting that they as well as others felt betrayed by their Jarl's choice in the matter. Aisling talks about how she drifted away from everyone, making the necessary appearances in her roles as the Thane of Eastmarch and the Jarl's Stormblade, her mask keeping most from realizing just how much this farce was bothering her. Then, the woman realizing she was pregnant, telling no one save Jora and Galmar, yet somehow the High King's wife found out and had the woman who was her only competition ambushed and causing the redhead to miscarry. It wouldn't do, she says the hired thugs told her, for the High King of Skyrim to have any bastards running about threatening his wife's future children.

"Of which she never had," the heavily armored man grunts out. "Married over two years and Mara never blessed the union with an heir… or it could be Elisif's doing. Anything could be possible with those blasted elves still around at that point. I do know Ulfric tried though- one heir, he told me. That's all he wanted from her, as well as acting like everything was well in their marriage. After that, Ulfric didn't care what his wife did- I think he realized that when he bent the knee to the Jarls, he lost far more than he gained."

For a few moments, the Sneak Trainer is eerily silent, and Aisling feels her heart sink just a little bit more than normal. "It all makes sense now- why you showed up in Riften as you did, your reluctance to have anything to do in Windhelm, your not wanting to get close to anyone in the Guild. Does he know?"

"No, but not from Galmar's lack of trying to convince me otherwise. It won't change anything if he knows or not-"

"He still loves you, Aisling-"

"I _do not care_ , General. He didn't care about us then, I don't care about rebuilding what I had with him now. Besides, I'm happy with Delvin, the happiest I've been in a long while. You've already given your blessing, Galmar- don't ruin what respect I still hold for you by going back on your word already."

"You know I wouldn't, Stormblade. I'd be no better than Ingmund and that lot of new Jarls of if did such a thing."The bearded man sighs, then asks "When's the wedding?"

"As soon as we can manage it. She gave me the slip once, I'm not letting her escape me a second time."

A bright smile breaks out across the younger Nord's face as she kisses her intended's cheek. "As soon as Del and I wake in the morning, we'll be heading down to the Rift to speak to Maramal. I'll be sure to send a message up to you and the others who want to come as soon as it's scheduled." Before the officer could open his mouth, Aising continues with "We're leaving tomorrow because I don't need the royal idiot realizing I'm in the city. Last thing I need is for him sending you, Jorlief or Ysarald to drag me back up to the palace. I helped him with the pile of dragon shit he stepped in by taking care of that puppet he made his wife, now I'm going to take care of myself- and that doesn't include him."

"Understood." The battleworn soldier glances down at the small vessel and goes "It's a shame the younger generations will have to pay for all of our sins for awhile- all for the idea of an independent Skyrim. But will that price be worth it?"Galmar starts to make his way out from where generations of Jarls and their families were interred, pausing when he reaches the door. "I'll do what I can to keep Ulfric from getting word that you're here, girl, but stick to those shadows you've come to love so much- they might end up being your saving grace when he does come stormin' to your door."

* * *

A/N: Wow. It's been awhile. I LIVE. Kinda. Sorta.

I started a new job back in mid-June, two weeks of training then started in July. I have barely any time to do much writing, just a little bit here and there on my down times...which also means a lot of this new chapter is piecemealed together. So there will be some mistakes that I didn't catch- if anyone finds anything that doesn't make sense, feel free to let me know in a message. My other works are also not abandoned and are slowly getting updated when time is being kind to me... And I might have started another work that's also been keeping me busy.

So, one or two chapters after this. Then fleshing out the ideas for the second part of this, because why should I give any character I create a HEA with any Skyrim character? Why would I make it easy on myself?

And I think that is that. Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me during my absence, I'll try to learn better time management. And thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

Aisling, knowing full well that Ulfric did not wake up on Sundas before about ten in the morning- a habit that made itself known when the war was going on when they would spend time with the other Stormcloak officers drinking late into the night and not leaving bed until the sun was high in the sky- wasn't worried as she and Delvin left Hjerim the next day. The path home was rather uneventful, nothing more than a few wolves looking for a quick and easy prey to feast on. In fact, the only interesting thing that happened was when he all of a sudden rode off the road just before Riften into a copse, and, after the pair dismounted, proceeded to take her roughly up against a tree. When she asked him afterwards what brought that on, the Breton just brushed a wayward hair out of her line of sight and tells her that he wasn't sure how much time alone they were going to have once they rejoined their guild so he was going to take advantage of the time they had left.

The two thieves leave their horses with Hofgrir Horse-Crusher and as they step through the gates, Delvin wraps an arm around Aisling's waist- loose enough to not show possessiveness, but holding her close enough to convince most to keep their hands off. "Where were you planning on going first?"

"I do need to speak to Maramal about our plans, but I really should check to make sure that all of the Guild members are present and accounted for- not sitting in a jail somewhere or being lazy and not taking jobs. I will not have our Guild revert back to what it was under Mercer, not if I can help it." The Nord leans her head on his shoulder as the two walk past a squabbling Bolli and Nivenor. "Part of me though doesn't want to go back to work yet. You think they can deal without us another day or two?"

A restrained chuckle escapes the Breton as he plants a kiss on top of her head. "As much as I'd love to, the Guild probably thinks I have you locked away somewhere as my prisoner-"

"Your prisoner? I think it would be the other way around." She pecks his cheek when he huffs out his annoyance. "You're right though- we probably should at least make an appearance down in the Cistern, or at least one of us should."

"I'll go talk to Bryn then- knowing my luck if you go he'll try one last time to get into bed with you once he's learned I finally asked the question."

Here Aisling snorts softly as the pair stop at the bridge in front of the temple. "You think something like this will stop him from trying to sleep with me? I think he'll take it one further and either ask to watch or join in."

"I might have to share you with the Guild when it comes to our work. I might have to share you with the Jarls because of your being Thane in their Holds. I _might_ have to eventually share you with the Stormcloak when it comes to the oaths you have sworn to him and his cause, even if I do not like the idea. But I'll be damned if any of them try to pry you away from me." Glittering ambers glance around to see if anyone could overhear him, then whispers in his lover's ear "Or do I need to show everyone just _who_ had you begging before leaving Windhelm this morning?"

"It's tempting," the Guild Master goes, her eyes darkening just a touch, "but I don't think I want to add public indecency to my extensive list of illegal acts in Riften, Thane or not. Besides I'm not a exhibitionist." She pulls him flush against her leather covered frame and tells him "But I could change my mind with the right inducement- say, on top of Brynjolf's counter at his stall?"

Delvin growls as he slips his hand from Aisling's waist and cups the curve of her ass. "Why wait? His stall's just over there and rather empty-"

"Hey, you two. No lollygaggin'."

If looks could kill, the intruding guard would have been dead twice over with the way both the Sneak Trainer and the Thane glared at him. Realizing just who he angered, the helmeted man tries to regain control of the situation, saying "Oh, forgive me, Thane. I didn't realize it was you. We'll look the other way this time, but even the Jarl's influence has its limits. Be more careful."

"We'll do that," the ginger goes, rolling her eyes at the guard's back when he turns to continue with his patrol. She gives her intended a wry smile and goes simply "That's why we wait."

* * *

"Welcome back, Delvin. Took your sweet time coming back."

The bald man snorts as he takes a seat next to the man who was practically his brother, accepting the offered mead with a smile. "Surprised you even noticed, given your habit of being elsewhere for far too long and busy doing other things."

"Well with both you and the Lass gone, I figured someone had to step up and carry your burdens. Now that you're finally back…" Green eyes look behind the Breton in confusion. "You didn't come back alone, did you?"

"You think so little of my abilities, Brynjolf?"

"Your so called 'abilities' could never charm their way into my pants, Del," another voice chimes in as Vex pulls up another chair. "Now, was my sacrificing good coin worth it, or did yet another woman tell you no?"

"Obviously she didn't if it took him this long to come back-"

"He could have gone and drowned his sorrows in mead or whores- or both, knowing him!"

Mallory holds up both his hands to silence the squabbling thieves. "No, I didn't come back alone. Yes, I did ask her. Yes, your sacrificing jobs and coin was _very_ worth it. And no, I'm not Brynjolf, I wouldn't waste the money on whores."

"She said yes?" At the Breton's nod, the Imperial goes for the killing blow on her tease "So, how many times did you have to ask before the Boss cracked?"

"Just the once, but I did it in a way that we'll look back on it and laugh when we're old and gray-"

"Well, when she's old and gray, and you're just old because you have nothing left on top to turn gray." The ginger ducks just in time for an empty mead bottle to go sailing past his head and yelps out "What?! It's true!"

"Shut up,idiot. I want to hear how he actually did it- especially since he's claimin' he didn't have to beg and plead."

Even though Vex knew what his plans were when it came to asking Aisling to marry him, Delvin gladly told the story starting from when he left Riften in the company of the Greybeard complete with a rundown on the rather… interesting information Master Arngeir revealed during their travels.

The infiltrator surprisingly held her tongue until the end of the tale. "Judgmental s'wit, saying you weren't good enough. Who would have been, the Stormcloak?"

"Shadows no, that dragon flew off a long time ago," Aisling's voice floats in from the entrance and slowly gets closer as she moves further into the room. "Not that it didn't stop both him and Ulfric after that- more than once in fact. I think Master Arngeir learned his lesson, and as for the High King... Stories for another day, I think."

"Ah, welcome back love. How did everything go?"

The newcomer drags a chair over and squeezes it in between Delvin and Brynjolf, then collapses into it and leans her head against . "People need to keep their thoughts to themselves. While Maramal was pleased to hear that I was finally getting married, he wasn't amused at who the lucky man was. I told him there were worse choices, like a member of the Dark Brotherhood, Sibbi Black-Briar or Brynjolf, for that matter."

"Come on Lass!"

"The priest eventually realized I would not be swayed, and the event is scheduled for this Loredas." At Delvin's pout, Aisling just chuckles and cups his cheek with a smile. "Be lucky I was able to get that date- Maramal could have forced lessons upon us or something even worse, like simply saying no."

"Ah, but imagine all the supposed sins we could then commit that he could attempt to save us from," Mallory tells her as he presses his lips against her palm. "Especially the one we were discussing out in the marketplace."

"Lech."

A quick tug has the Guild Master squeaking as she's pulled off her chair and into the Breton trainer's lap. "And yet I don't hear you complaining about that," Mallory murmurs against Aisling's mouth then, not caring about their audience, proceeds to snog her protestations away.

" _Ahem._ " A voice cuts in a few minutes later as a hand slowly travels down from it's hold in the Nord female's hair to fiddle with one of the buckles of her armor.

"Shh, Vex. Leave 'em be."

"You just want to watch!"

Aisling gently pushes her intended back in his chair. "I told you he's a voyeur. I'll deal with your needs later, Del- I have messages that need to be sent out."

"I'll take care of writin' Glover- if we're gonna do it, might as well do it right the first time… and give ol' Grelod a heart attack while we're at it." As she goes to stand up, Delvin touches her hand briefly. "Mind what you put in the letter when you write to certain members of your extended family, love. Last thing we need is for people to be showin' up uninvited and the like."

"Regardless of who shows up, I'll expect everyone of the Guild to be on their best behavior- no pickpocketing the attendees." The woman tosses her braid back over her shoulder as she stands up, the bound ruby strands threatening to come loose from its ties. "I don't need to remind the three of you that outside of this place I'm not the Guild Master and a Nightingale, we can ill-afford to lose the protections those titles grant. And Bryn, keep your hands off the women… and the men. Fuck, just keep your hands to yourself."

"Don't worry, Boss. I'll keep an eye on them- two, if I can spare 'em," the blonde infiltrator tells the other woman with a smile, knowing full well having both Mallorys and Brynjolf in the same room could lead to problems.

"Appreciate it Vex," Aisling tells her, then looks down at the man still sitting in the chair. "I will see you later tonight?" The look that crosses Delvin's face says everything and the woman knew then that if she didn't get her work done before he walked into Honeyside, the paperwork would get neglected until he, she or they were both satisfied. A deep blush bursts out over her cheeks, and before anyone could comment, the Nord female heads out of the tavern to get to Honeyside.

"You're never going to let the Lass get any work done, are ya, Del?"

Sparkling brown eyes meet amused emeralds and the Breton smiles knowingly. "The Boss's days belong to the Guild and the Jarls, but her mornings and nights are _all_ mine. No one, not even the Stormcloak himself, can do anything to change that."

 ** _Unfortunately for one Delvin Mallory, that was not to be the case._**

* * *

A/N: _Let's see. From a Loredas of Last Seed until a Middas of Heartfire... it will happen soon. Very soon._

It being the end on Dragonborn and The Sneak. I can't believe how this story was originally planned out- a poorly executed relationship between not just Aisling and Delvin, but with Brynjolf as well. Rather cringe worthy and is currently sitting among other files for me to possibly straighten out or pretend never existed.

So read, review, help me get better.


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